I want to remember what bullshit looks like when weapons of mass destruction are diagrammed out and whacko "intelligence" is delivered in an ominous way to strike fear into people and especially to pull on the idealism and zeal of the young.

I spend most of my time writing.

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

He had a thousand-year-old stare.

Old love, middle love, the kind of love that knows itself and knows that nothing lasts, is a desperate shared wildness.

You know, some people fall right through the hole in their lives. Its invisible, but they come to it after time, never knowing where.

Women are strong, strong, terribly strong. We don't know how strong until we are pushing out our babies. We are too often treated like babies having babies when we should be in training, like acolytes, novices to high priestesshood, like serious applicants for the space program.