In her bottled up is a woman peppery as curry, a yam of a woman of butter and brass.

Learning to love differently is hard, love with the hands wide open, love with the doors banging on their hinges, the cupboard unlocked, the windroaring and whimpering in the rooms.

There is no justice we don't make daily like bread and love.

When midlist writers are treated like dirt, I would desist were I less stubborn and less committed.

We may be losing the ability to understand animals who are not pets or horses. We have less contact with them. We don't (most of us) tend to know even cows and pigs, let alone bears or wolverines or red tailed hawks.

Shall I tell you something I've been noticing? The mistrust this society has for women. All kinds of experts and officials are terrified because so many women are working. They really think that women have to be coerced into having babies and raising kids.

Life is the first gift, love is the second, and understanding the third.