The blind willingness to sacrifice people to truth, however, has always been the danger of an ethics abstracted from life.

I find the question of whether gender differences are biologically determined or socially constructed to be deeply disturbing.

For a man to be a man, did he have to be a soldier, or at least prepare himself for war? For a woman to be a woman, did she have to be a mother, or at least prepare herself to raise children? Soldiers and mothers were the sacrificial couple, honored by statues in the park, lauded for their willingness to give their lives to others.

Maybe love is like rain. Sometimes gentle, sometimes torrential, flooding, eroding, joyful, steady, filling the earth, collecting in underground springs. When it rains, when we love, life grows.

Everything about women is in perpetual crisis.

The hardest times for me were not when people challenged what I said, but when I felt my voice was not heard.

Theory can blind observation.