I know I am made from this earth, as my mother's hands were made from this earth, as her dreams came from this earth and all that I know, I know in this earth, the body of the bird, this pen, this paper, these hands, this tongue speaking, all that I know speaks to me through this earth.

Every time I deny myself I commit a kind of suicide.

Even in the grimmest of circumstances, a shift in perspective can create startling change.

In one sense I feel that my book is a one-woman argument against determinism.

Yes we are devilish; that is true we cackle. Yes we are dark like the soil and wild like the animals. And we turn to each other and stare into this darkness. We find it beautiful. We find this darkness irresistible. We cease all hiding.

I am not so different in my history of abandonment from anyone else after all. We have all been split away from the earth, each other, ourselves.

Although the many virtues that courtesans possessed were employed to defy circumstances, the role they played depended on the same circumstances over which they triumphed- conditions which to, fortunately for modern women, no longer exist.