Marriage cannot be a job as it has become.

We live in a true chaos of contradicting authorities, an age of conformism without community, of proximity without communication.

Perhaps women have always been in closer contact with reality than men: it would seem to be the just recompense for being deprived of idealism.

The compelled mother loves her child as the caged bird sings. The song does not justify the cage nor the love the enforcement.

The most popular image of the female despite the exigencies of the clothing trade is all boobs and buttocks, a hallucinating sequence of parabolae and bulges.

The surest guide to the correctness of the path that women take is joy in the struggle. Revolution is the festival of the oppressed.

There is no such thing as security. There never has been.