I spend my time dwelling on revenge and try to deal with the monsters crawling out of the ashes.

Our songs travel the earth. We sing to one another. Not a single note is ever lost and no song is original. They all come from the same place and go back to a time when only the stones howled.

To think about love and passion and political correctness all together, it doesn't work. Art has to go way past the political to be effective.

Death is the least civilized rite of passage.

To be of mixed blood is a great gift for a writer. I have one foot on tribal lands and one foot in middle-class life.

I stood there in the shadowed doorway thinking with my tears. Yes, tears can be thoughts, why not?

The story comes around, pushing at our brains, and soon we are trying to ravel back to the beginning, trying to put families into order and make sense of things. But we start with one person, and soon another and another follows, and still another, until we are lost in the connections.