It was the world of Southern, rural, black growing up, of folks sitting on porches day and night, of folks calling your mama, 'cause you walked by and didn't speak, and of the switch waiting when you got home so that you could be taught some manners. It was a world of single black older women schoolteachers, dedicated, tough; they had taught your mama, her sisters, and her friends. They knew your people in ways that you never would and shared their insight, keeping us in touch with generations. It was a world where we had a history.

Knowing love or the hope of knowing love is the anchor that keeps us from falling into that sea of despair.

Living simply makes loving simple.

The world demands that you work for it, make families, provide, take no time to listen to your own heart beating.

Imagine living in a world where there is no domination, where females and males are not alike or even always equal, but where a vision of mutuality is the ethos shaping our interaction.

I think part of Western metaphysical dualism is, we're always being asked to choose one over the other.

Secrets find a way out in sleep . . . It is the place where there is no pretense.