What goes on inside isn't ever the same as what goes on outside.

It is my feeling that as we grow older we should become not less radical but more so. I do not, of course, mean this in any political-party sense, but rather in a willingness to struggle for those things in which we passionately believe. Social activism and the struggle for social justice are often thought of as the natural activities of the young but not of the middle-aged or the elderly. In fact, I don't think this was ever true.

I am rampant with memory.

The dead don't bear a grudge nor seek a blessing. The dead don't rest uneasy. Only the living.

Why doesn't Prin go and get her own goddamn blistering bloody shitty jelly doughnuts?

Pride was my wilderness, and the demon that led me there was fear.

I used to think there would be a blinding flash of light someday, and then I would be wise and calm and would know how to cope with everything and my kids would rise up and call me blessed. Now I see that whatever I'm like, I'm pretty well stuck with it for life. Hell of a revelation that turned out to be.