Idealism is the death of the body and the imagination. All but freedom, utter freedom, is death

Last night I wept. I wept because the process by which I have become woman was painful. I wept because I was no longer a child with a child's blind faith. I wept because my eyes were opened to reality....I wept because I could not believe anymore and I love to believe. I can still love passionately without believing. That means I love humanly. I wept because I have lost my pain and I am not yet accustomed to its absence.

Is devotion to others a cover for the hungers and the needs of the self, of which one is ashamed? I was always ashamed to take. So I gave. It was not virtue. It was a disguise.

I take pleasure in my transformations. I look quiet and consistent, but few know how many women there are in me.

The way to recognize a dead word is that it exudes boredom.

You can either give negativity power over your life or you can choose happiness instead.

I prefer empty cages, Sabina, until I find a unique bird I once saw in my dreams.