None of us seem to think that we should draw a line under what would be a satisfactory amount of wealth.

Who you are is a mystery no one can answer, not even you.

if I'd thought that nobody would like it as I was writing it, I would have written it even more. But I never think of the audience. I never think of people reading. I never think of people, period.

People only say I’m angry because I’m black and I’m a woman.

It's not that I'm a very good person. It's that I think I should at least look at the ways in which I am not a good person, the ways in which I so readily become the person who would not notice that the wonderful clothing I'm wearing someone is probably dying for.

In a way, a garden is the most useless of creations, the most slippery of creations: it is not like a painting or a piece of sculpture-it won't accrue value as time goes on. Time is its enemy' time passing is merely the countdown for the parting between garden and gardener.

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