The Help—a serious look at a book that made me worry, groan, and laugh out loud.
Any time you cross a line, no matter how real it seems to you and no matter how long ago it was drawn, if you truly respect those on the other side, eventually, the line will cease to exist.
The problem with lines is not that they exist, it's that they keep people from seeing the world from another viewpoint.
Lines were never meant to be drawn by others. Each individual must decide for him or herself where to draw the line on any given issue.
If I can only have relationships with people who view the world as I do and consistently validate the lines I've drawn (without ever questioning them), surely, I do not know true friendship.
The more time someone spends explaining to me why a line exists, the less credibility I give to the line and its observers.
Lines are meant to be crossed with humility and respect. It is one thing to cross a line in order to walk in someone else's shoes. It is entirely another to do it for the sake of trampling on others' soles.
When we say, “She crossed the line,” what we are usually saying is, “She crossed me.” I suppose the trick is to know the difference--and own it.
Lines that lie on the faces of the elderly or in the furrowed brows of a confused child, often have more wisdom than the lines drawn and accepted by society.
I am grateful that Ms. Stockett crossed the line she'd been raised to believe was too “tacky” to cross. Who knows how many other “tacky” lines will be erased as a result.