I am one of the most irresponsible beings that ever lived. Irresponsibility is part of my invisibility; any way you face it, it is a denial. But to whom can I be responsible, and why should I be, when you refuse to see me?

Life is to be lived, not controlled, and humanity is won by continuing to play in face of certain defeat.

It is sometimes advantageous to be unseen, although it is most often rather wearing on the nerves.

It took me a long time and much painful boomeranging of my expectations to achieve a realization everyone else appears to have been born with: That I am nobody but myself.

I feel the need to reaffirm all of it, the whole unhappy territory and all the things loved and unloveable in it, for it is all part of me.

I am not ashamed of my grandparents for having been slaves. I am only ashamed of myself for having at one time being ashamed.

My hole is warm and full of light.