Where we live in the world is never one place. Our hearts, those dogged mirrors, keep flashing us moons before we are ready for them.

The hands are churches that worship the world.

We dropped our troubles into the lap of the storyteller, and they turned into someone else's.

You know, those of us who leave our homes in the morning and expect to find them there when we go back - it's hard for us to understand what the experience of a refugee might be like.

My mother used to tell me when I went somewhere, "Please leave your foolishness at home." But how could I do that? It was stuck on me.

you will never catch up. Walk around feeling like a leaf know you could tumble at any second. Then decide what to do with your time. --The Art of Disappearing

... the real heroes of race and culture would always be the people who stepped out of their own line to make a larger circle.