Then I repeated these words to my spirits: 'Leave me be; give me peace; and let me do the work of my life. I will never forget you.' Something about that incantation was particularly appealing to me. 'I will never forget you'-- as though one had to address the pride of the spirits, as though one wanted them to feel good about being exorcised.

The world changed, and the idea of having a family became feasible for homosexuals. But I was still left with the question as to what it would be like for a child to grow up with gay parents.

Ease makes less of an impression on us than struggle.

I don't believe that there is anyone of faith whose faith would not be strengthened by those experiences of family.

Antonin Artaud wrote on one of his drawings, "Never real and always true," and that is how depression feels. You know that it is not real, that you are someone else, and yet you know that it is absolutely true.

There is neither a cure for nor a way to repair autism. There is no implant like there is for the deaf.

With children who have never said a word, parents tend to assume, for better or for worse, that there isn't any language there.