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Danh ngôn của Bill Moyers (Sứ mệnh: 4)

When my brother died in 1966, my father began a grieving process that lasted almost twenty-five years. For all that time, he suffered from chronic, debilitating headaches. I took him to some of the country's major medical facilities, but no one could cure him of his pain.
I own and operate a ferocious ego.
When I learn something new - and it happens every day - I feel a little more at home in this universe, a little more comfortable in the nest.
Ideas are great arrows, but there has to be a bow. And politics is the bow of idealism.
Secrecy is the freedom tyrants dream of.
War, except in self-defense, is a failure of moral imagination.
As a student I learned from wonderful teachers and ever since then I've thought everyone is a teacher.