I have come to believe over and over again that what is most important to me must be spoken, made verbal and shared, even at the risk of having it bruised or misunderstood.

I have died too many deaths that were not mine.

what you hear in my voice is fury, not suffering. Anger, not moral authority

If I cannot air this pain and alter it, I will surely die of it. That's the beginning of social protest.

If you do not learn to hate you will never be lonely enough to love easily nor will you always be brave, although it does not grow any easier. Do not pretend to convenient beliefs, even when they are righteous; you will never be able to defend your city while shouting.

I am very, very happy for Alice Walker.

What is there possibly left for us to be afraid of, after we have dealt face to face with death and not embraced it? Once I accept the existence of dying as a life process, who can ever have power over me again?