Gazing into the mirror, I saw myself as I was-a black silhouette in the room, a woman whose darkness had completely leaked through.

People can start out one way, and by the time life gets through with them they end up completely different.

There is no place so AWAKE and ALIVE as the edge of becoming.

When a woman starts to disentangle herself from patriarchy, ultimately she is abandoned to her own self.

The question occurred to me: Well, if that's so, if the Divine is ultimately formless and genderless, what's the big deal? Why all this bother? The bother is because we have no other way of speaking about the Absolute. We need forms and images. Without them we have no way of relating to the Divine. Symbol and image create a universal spiritual language. It's the language the soul understands.

In a weird way I must have loved my little collection of hurts and wounds. They provided me with some real nice sympathy, with the feeling I was exceptional... What a special case I was.

I worried so much about how I looked and whether I was doing things right, I felt half the time I was impersonating a girl instead of really being one.