Fonny and I just sat there... while the voices of the congregation rose and rose around us, without mercy... Teddy had the tambourine, and gave the cue to the piano player-I never got to know him: a long dark, evil-looking brother, with hands made for strangling; and with these hands he attacked the keyboard like he was beating the brains out of someone he remembered. No doubt the congregation had their memories, too, and they went to pieces. The church began to rock.

But it was not the room’s disorder which was frightening; it was the fact that when one began searching for the key to this disorder, one realized that it was not to be found in any of the usual places. For this was not a matter of habit or circumstance or temperament; it was a matter of punishment and grief.

Whoever debases others is debasing himself.

There is something terribly radical about believing that one's own experience and images are important enough to speak about, much less to write about and to perform

In order to have a conversation with someone you must reveal yourself.

People can cry much easier than they can change.

You have to decide who you are and force the world to deal with you, not with its idea of you.