True power does not amass through the pain and suffering of others.

Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table, while we are laughing and crying, eating of the last sweet bite.

My sister accommodates me, never reproaches me with her doctrine, never tries to change me. She accepts and loves me, despite our differences.

There is no poetry where there are no mistakes.

But come here, Fear. / I am alive! / And you are so afraid / of dying.

The woman hanging from the 13th floor window on the east side of Chicago is not alone...She is all the women of the apartment building who stand watching her, watching themselves.

My house is the red earth . . . .