This is a powerful essay on what it means to be human, and what it takes to be capable of seeing people as human even when madness or suffering have made them appear, to most of us, like something less than humans.
I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope/ For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,/ For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith/ But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
[T.S. Eliot]
This is a powerful essay on what it means to be human, and what it takes to be capable of seeing people as human even when madness or suffering have made them appear, to most of us, like something less than humans.