Faithfulness to the past can be a kind of death above ground. Writing of the past is a resurrection; the past then lives in your words and you are free.

The source of one's joy is also often the source of one's sorrow.

The sick soon come to understand that they live in a different world from that of the well and that the two cannot communicate.

With enough libraries, all content is free.

Fiction reveals truths that reality obscures.

In my time and neighborhood (and in my soul) there was only one standard by which a woman measured success: did some man want her?

A religious awakening which does not awaken the sleeper to love has roused him in vain.