You don't want to write your own opinion, you don't want to just represent yourself, but represent yourself through someone else.

What is interesting and important happens mostly in secret, in places where there is no power. Nothing much of lasting value ever happens at the head table, held together by a familiar rhetoric. Those who already have power continue to glide along the familiar rut they have made for themselves.

We die containing a richness of lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we have plunged into and swum up as if rivers of wisdom, characters we have climbed into as if trees, fears we have hidden in as if caves. I wish for all this to be marked on by body when I am dead. I believe in such cartography - to be marked by nature, not just to label ourselves on a map like the names of rich men and women on buildings. We are communal histories, communal books. We are not owned or monogamous in our taste or experience.

The one of the great sadnesses of any life is knowing what you know now and then remembering what you did not know then.

Everyone has to scratch on walls somewhere or they go crazy

There was a time when mapmakers named the places they travelled through with the names of lovers rather than their own.

Love is so small it can tear itself through the eye of a needle