I was a late bloomer. But anyone who blooms at all, ever, is very lucky.

Maybe we can use a metaphor for it, out of dance. I think for many years I was aware of the need, in dance and in life, to breathe deeply and to take in more air than we usually take in.

I did not know him, I knew my idea of him.

The older I get, the more I see the power of that young woman, my mother.

I did not deceive him, he did not deceive me, I did not leave him, he did not leave me, I freed him, he freed me.

Their spirits and their visions are embodied in their craft. And so is mine. It's not Jane Saw Puff. But the clarity of Jane Saw Puff is precious to me.

Writing or making anything-a poem, a bird feeder, a chocolate cake-has self-respect in it. You're working. You're trying. You're not lying down on the ground, having given up.