We have seen over and over that white male historians in general have tended to dismiss any history they didn't themselves write,on the grounds that it is unserious, unscholarly, a fad, too "political," "merely" oral and thus unreliable.

Art and literature have given so many people the relief of feeling connected - pulled us out of isolation. It has let us know that somebody else breathed and dreamed and had sex and loved and raged and knew loneliness the way we do.

It's exhilarating to be alive in a time of awakening consciousness; it can also be confusing, disorienting, and painful.

Despair, when not the response to absolute physical and moral defeat is, like war, the failure of imagination.

If we had time and no money, living by our wits, what story would you tell?

We move but our words stand become responsible for more than we intended and this is verbal privilege

Pride is a tricky, glorious, double-edged feeling.