I wouldn't mind being labeled as "angry," if it wasn't used once again to denigrate and belittle.

That the world I was in could be soft, lovely, and nourishing was more than I could bear, and so I stood there and wept, for I didn't want to love one more thing in my life, didn't want one more thing that could make my heart break into a million little pieces at my feet.

It was hollow, my triumph, I could feel that, but I held on to it just the same.

It's too easy to say this or that is "race," and that has been a vehicle for an incredible amount of wrong in the world.

Like father like son, like mother like daughter!

No matter how happy I had been in the past I do not long for it. The present is always the moment for which I love.

The sound of words in a novel is a pretty amazing thing, and I am concerned with the sound of every word I write.