How unlike a dead fish a live fish is.

I am confirmed in my belief that war is utter destructive violent chaos. There is no "art," no "order(s)," no "just war." No matter what the ideologies, wars are the same.

I'd like to go to New Society Village someday and find out exactly how far I can walk before people stop talking like me.

Not many women got to live out the daydream of women—to have a room, even a section of a room, that only gets messed up when she messes it up herself.

Hunger also changes the world - when eating can't be a habit, then neither can seeing.

Before we can leave our parents, they stuff our heads like the suitcases which they jam-pack with homemade underwear.

The work of preservation demands that the feelings playing about in one's guts not be turned into action. Just watch their passing like cherry blossoms.