When things were very bad his soul just crawled behind his heart and curled up and went to sleep

I'm a writer and writers either have good memories or nothing at all.

Each of us needs to withdraw from the cares which will not withdraw from us. We need hours of aimless wandering or spates of time sitting on park benches, observing the mysterious world of ants and the canopy of treetops.

Nothing hurts more than realizing they meant everything to you, but you meant nothing to them.

That knowledge humbles me, melts my bones, closes my ears, and makes my teeth rock loosely in their gums. And it also liberates me. I am a big bird winging over high mountains, down into serene valleys. I am ripples of waves on silver seas. I'm a spring leaf trembling in anticipation.

I write because I am a Black woman, listening attentively to her people.

Won't it be wonderful when black history and native American history and Jewish history and all of U.S. history is taught from one book. Just U.S. history.