Animals were not made for us, or our use. They have their own use, which is just being who they are.

When the ax came into the forest the trees said the handle is one of us.

Abortion, for many women, is more than an experience of suffering beyond anything most men will ever know, it is an act of mercy, and an act of self-defense.

I'm pore, I'm black, I may be ugly and can't cook, a voice say to everything listening. But I'm here.

Every time I conjure up a rock, I throw it.

What a burden to think one is conceived in sin rather than in pleasure; that one is born into evil rather than into joy.

It has become a common feeling, I believe, as we have watched our heroes falling over the years, that our own small stone of activism, which might not seem to measure up to the rugged boulders of heroism we have so admired, is a paltry offering toward the building of an edifice of hope. Many who believe this choose to withhold their offerings out of shame. This is the tragedy of the world. For we can do nothing substantial toward changing our course on the planet, a destructive one, without rousing ourselves, individual by individual, and bringing our small, imperfect stones to the pile.