What a lost person needs is a map of the territory, with his own position marked on it so he can see where he is in relation to everything else.

Perhaps its not the world that is soundless but we who are deaf.

I sink down into my body as into a swamp, fenland, where only I know the footing…. I’m a cloud, congealed around a central object, the shape of a pear, which is hard and more real than I am and glows red within its translucent wrapping. Inside it is a space, huge as the sky at night and dark and curved like that, though black-red rather than black.

When a man is attacked in print, it's usually for saying what he says; when a woman is attacked in print, it's often for being who she is.

The use of "religion" as an excuse to repress the freedom of expression and to deny human rights is not confined to any country or time.

No one knows what cuases an outer landscape to become an inner one.

It's his word against the Commander's, unless he wants to head a posse. Kick in the door, and what did I tell you? Caught in the act, sinfully Scrabbling. Quick, eat those words.