I tend to see the similarities in people and not the differences.

After a few months without writing, months I've lived turned outward... I fear going deaf, not being able to hear the silence.

His calls for justice were lost at the mercy of the wind and human indifference.

I think the spirit survives when we die, and nothing is wasted in nature and just as our material body disintegrates and becomes something else in the soil. The spirit becomes something else, reunites with a spiritual force that is out there in the universe. Not as individuals but as part of this spirituality.

The writer of good will carries a lamp to illuminate the dark corners.

One of the things that always comes up in my writing is the search for freedom, especially in women. I always write about women who are marginalized, who have no means or resources and somehow manage to get out of those situations with incredible strength - and that is more important than anything.

How can one not speak about war, poverty, and inequality when people who suffer from these afflictions don't have a voice to speak?