When a woman tells the truth she is creating the possibility for more truth around her.

Grief held back from the lips wears at the heart; the drop that refused to join the river dried up in the dust.

As a society in turmoil, we are going to see more, and more various, attempts to simulate order through repression; and art is a historical target for such efforts.

The worker can unionize, go out on strike; mothers are divided from each other in homes, tied to their children by compassionate bonds; our wildcat strikes have most often taken the form of physical or mental breakdown.

Life on the planet is born of woman.

I don’t think we can separate art from overall human dignity and hope.

It's as if, in the mother's eyes, her smile, her stroking touch, the child first reads the message:'You are there!'