It was the bumble bee and the butterfly who survived, not the dinosaur.

Suddenly many movements are going on within me, many things are happening, there is an almost unbearable sense of sprouting, of bursting encasements, of moving kernels, expanding flesh.

It was the bumble bee and the butterfly who survived, not the dinosaur.

The people always know that some of the grain will be good, some of the crop will be saved, some will return and bear the strength of the kernel, that from the bloodiest year some survive to outfox the frost.

The history of an oppressed people is hidden in the lies and the agreed myth of its conquerors.

A good civilization gives the greatest possible scope to the common passions and makes them intelligible among the great number of people.

Linear thinking is patriarchal.