The universe is transformation.

I don't pray. When I was young, I vowed I never would be caught begging God. If I want something I get it for myself. I go to church only to show the old hens they don't get me down.

There is no such thing as a complete lack of order, only a design so vast it appears unrepetitive up close.

So what is wild? What is wilderness? What are dreams but an internal wilderness and what is desire but a wildness of the soul?

...which causes me to wonder, my own purpose on so many days as humble as the spider's, what is beautiful that I make? What is elegant? What feeds the world?

There are people who are always, I think, going to remain people of the book, to use another author's title, but people of the book, who really must be around.

To sew is to pray. Men don't understand this. They see the whole but they don't see the stitches. They don't see the speech of the creator in the work of the needle. We mend. We women turn things inside out and set things right. We salvage what we can of human garments and piece the rest into blankets. Sometimes our stitches stutter and slow. Only a woman's eyes can tell. Other times, the tension in the stitches might be too tight because of tears, but only we know what emotion went into the making. Only women can hear the prayer.