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In the aftermath of the Tucson shootings, I have begun to ask myself, once again, can the center hold?
Some years ago, I discovered the lines of William Butler Yeats in his poem, “The Second Coming,” which he wrote in 1919 just after World War I. These lines from its first stanza haunt me to this day.
“… Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned,
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
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