James K Baxter’s Jerusalem Daybook “had woken something, disrupted something, in my placid Pākehā existence. Like the water tank in Baxter’s story, bullet holes were appearing in the walls of assumption and belief.” — Kennedy Warne.

“There is no airstrip. To get to Takū, you book a passage on the supply ship — if it's sailing. Last year, not a single ship visit was made. Cut off from outside supplies, the islanders relied entirely on their traditional food sources: fish, coconut and occasional taro."

“My hunger for the past came out of a need to process my own grief, rather than a desire to study the history.” — Hepi Mita, on making a film about his mum, Merata.

“Of first importance, the river. Of second importance, the river.”— Kennedy Warne on the Whanganui River.

“Maria Thompson became a part of the Jackson household after my son’s grandmother, June, found her on the streets and took her home. She stayed for over three decades.”

History shows that it is invariably Māori who have been denied access by Pākehā to that which is precious to them, not the other way round.

“Being positioned as a “Māori” teacher came at a price. With this visible Māori identity came expectations from my colleagues that I was an expert on all things Māori.”

"The decision to respond to racism feels challenging because of the inevitably difficult dialogue that follows and the risk to relationships."

"I seek home in others’ hearts, and ask their permission to write of it. I look for aroha in their stories, for it is love that helps light things up when darkness threatens."

"For some of our students, getting to uni is ridiculously difficult, and so I try to make my classes worth the long commutes, and the sizeable weekly dent in their student allowance."—Dr Jani Wilson

“From the beginning, each of us recognised something in the other: two Māori boys off to conquer the world.” —Witi Ihimaera

For decades, May Mackey provided "compassion and aroha and prayer support without judgment" to prisoners. Last week, the 98-year-old was honoured for that work.

Even in death, Tiki Raumati chooses to live out his message of painful reconciliation.

“On Twitter, I found my community. False divides established through imperialism clearly exist across Te Moana-nui-a-Kiwa, and maybe the internet provides an opportunity to jump across those.”

"The big challenge is how we as whānau and communities confront this terrible darkness, this sad duality that creates such a tragic legacy. There is no quick fix. It requires an open and honest conversation.”—Moana Maniapoto

"It was 10 o’clock at night and this massive family was crying and then laughing and then crying and laughing again. I don’t know if it’s a brown thing, but if you’re not laughing at the hospital, no matter what the situation, you’re doing it wrong."

“The #MeToo movement hasn’t flowed through our Pacific communities as publicly as it has elsewhere. I think a big part of that is that the ones who’ve hurt us are our family. So outing our assaulter hurts us in new ways, and brings back the old pain.”

My daughter’s “coming out” momentarily knocked the life out of her mother and me.

The concept of wearing allegiances on the face, of using the skin as a canvas to tell a personal story . . . was a distinctly Māori expression.

Kennedy Warne reflects on the days leading up to Martin Luther King’s death, 50 years ago.

“It took years of very conscious effort for me not to be afraid to walk into a room full of people darker than I was.”

There seems to be increasingly little awareness among church leaders — both Māori and Pacific — that there's a direct correlation between Gospel truth and political activism.