I was so mad you could have boiled a pot of water on my head.

The twisted circumstances under which we live is grist for the writing mill, the loving, hating and discovering, finding new handles for old pitchers . . .

I believe racism has killed more people than speed, heroin, or cancer, and will continue to kill until it is no more.

The Black writer explains pain to those who inflict it.

I think women need kindness more than love. When one human being is kind to another, it's a very deep matter.

It becomes almost second nature to be on guard against the creative pattern of our own thought.

writing is a labor of love and also an act of defiance, a way to light a candle in a gale wind.