Women often find great roles in revolution, simply because the rules fall apart and everyone has agency, anyone can act.

There is no one as dangerous as he or she who has nothing to lose.

A labyrinth is a symbolic journey . . . but it is a map we can really walk on, blurring the difference between map and world.

I see disaster everywhere; I also […] see generosity and resistance everywhere.

Las Vegas suggests that the thirst for places, for cities and gardens and wilderness, is unslaked, that people will still seek out the experience of wandering about in the open air to examine the architecture, the spectacles, and the stuff for sale, will still hanker after surprises and strangers. That the city as a whole is one of the most pedestrian-unfriendly places in the world suggests something of the problems to be faced, but that its attraction is a pedestrian oasis suggests the possibility of recovering the spaces in which walking is viable.

Perhaps it’s that you can’t go back in time, but you can return to the scenes of a love, of a crime, of happiness, and of a fatal decision; the places are what remain, are what you can possess, are what is immortal. They become the tangible landscape of memory, the places that made you, and in some way you too become them. They are what you can possess and in the end what possesses you.

I think that walking down the middle of the street with several thousand people who share your deepest beliefs is one of the best ways to take a walk.