I truly think that you can't go and stalk your material, you have to leave the door open and whatever chooses you, chooses you. You can't go and wrestle it to the ground.

History works itself out in the living.

I tried out the unfamiliar syllables. They fit. They cracked in my ears like a fist through ice.

The Internet, which seems now so embedded and personal and crucial to our lives, isn't at all - we really shouldn't think of it that way.

There is a legacy of violence against native women that has gotten worse and worse over time.

Love won't be tampered with, love won't go away. Push it to one side and it creeps to the other.

What is this life but the sound of an appalling love.