This earth is my sister; I love her daily grace, her silent daring, and how loved I am. How we admire this strength in each other, all that we have lost, all that we have suffered, all that we know: We are stunned by this beauty, and I do not forget: what she is to me, what I am to her.

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

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.

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

Every important social movement reconfigures the world in the imagination. What was obscure comes forward, lies are revealed, memory shaken, new delineations drawn over the old maps: it is from this new way of seeing the present that hope emerges for the future...Let us begin to imagine the worlds we would like to inhabit, the long lives we will share, and the many futures in our hands.

What is buried in the past of one generation falls to the next to claim.

Perhaps every moment of time lived in human consciousness remains in the air around us.