How simple a thing it seems to me that to know ourselves as we are, we must know our mothers names.

I think us here to wonder, myself. To wonder. To ask. And that in wondering bout the big things and asking bout the big things, you learn about the little ones, almost by accident. But you never know nothing more about the big things than you start out with. The more I wonder, the more I love.

I almost never do anything for Black History Month, because I feel it's just another way to separate us.

After all, how can a society flourish, a country attain democracy and health, children grow into intelligent beings, sensitive to the needs of an ever more fragile and endangered planet, if half it's people are kept out of the driver's seat?

I can spend two hours grubbing about in my garden, dazed with pleasure and intent, and it feels like five minutes.

The infinite faith I have in people's ability to understand anything that makes sense has always been justified, finally, by their behavior.

Life is better than death, I believe, if only because it is less boring, and because it has fresh peaches in it.