Perhaps I write for no one. Perhaps for the same person children are writing for when they scrawl their names in the snow.

The true story is vicious and multiple and untrue after all. Why do you need it? Don’t ever ask for the true story.

I grew up amongst biologists.

Don't eat anything you aren't prepared to kill. Don't kill anything you aren't prepared to eat.

Faith is only a word, embroidered.

What you get is no longer what you see.

Ah men, why do you want all this attention? I can write poems for myself, make love to a doorknob if absolutely necessary. What do you have to offer me I can't find otherwise except humiliation? Which I no longer need.