Dogs are the magicians of the universe.

God forgives us. ... Who am I not to forgive?

I come from a long line of tellers: mesemondok, old Hungarian women who tell while sitting on wooden chairs with their plastic pocketbooks on their laps, their knees apart, their skirts touching the ground... and cuentistas, old Latina women who stand, robust of breast, hips wide, and cry out the story ranchera style. Both clans storytell in the plain voice of women who have lived blood and babies, bread and bones. For them, story is a medicine which strengthens and arights the individual and the community.

Ours is not the task of fixing the entire world at once, but of stretching out to mend the part of the world that is within our reach.

When women reassert their relationship with the wildish nature, they are gifted with a permanent and internal watcher, a knower, a visionary, an oracle, an inspiratrice, an intuitive, a maker, a creator, an inventor, and a listener who guide, suggest, and urge vibrant life in the inner and outer world.

Without art we live under the illusion that there is only time, and not eternity.

Asking the proper questions is the central action of transformation. Questions are the key that causes the secret doors of the psyche to swing open.