Walls protect and walls limit. It is in the nature of walls that they should fall. That walls should fall is the consequence of blowing your own trumpet.

I don't write for any group. I write to bring about a change in consciousness.

Why is the measure of love loss?

I have no idea what happens next.

Capacity for love in its higher forms seems to be peculiarly human although even in humans it is still peculiar.

the power of a text is not time-bound. The words go on doing their work.

St Paul said it is better to marry than to burn, but my mother taught me it is better to burn than to marry. She wanted to be a nun. She hoped I would be a priest and saved to give me an education while my friends plaited rope and trailed after the plough. I can't be a priest because although my heart is as loud as hers I can pretend no answering riot. I have shouted to God and the Virgin, but they have not shouted back and I'm not interested in the still small voice. Surely a god can meet passion with passion? She says he can. Then he should.