The heart of Jesus glowed, because it was holy. Holy things glowed in general.

We pulled the seeds out and scattered them on their flossy parachutes, leaving only the leathery brownish yellow tongue, soft as the inside of an elbow.

Eating is our earliest metaphor, preceding our consciousness of gender difference, race, nationality, and language. We eat before we talk.

I knew what love was supposed to be: obsession with undertones of nausea.

Powerlessness and silence go together.

I felt white, drained of blood, cared for, purified. Peaceful.

There are some women who seem to be born without fear, just as there are people who are born without the ability to feel pain ... Providence appears to protect such women, maybe out of astonishment.