All art is knowing when to stop.

Not knowing it was hard; knowing it was harder

Sweet, crazy conversations full of half sentences, daydreams and misunderstandings more thrilling than understanding could ever be.

Her mind traveled crooked streets and aimless goat paths, arriving sometimes at profundity, other times at the revelations of a three-year-old. Throughout this fresh, if common, pursuit of knowledge, one conviction crowned her efforts: ...she knew there was nothing to fear.

All paradises, all utopias are designed by who is not there, by the people who are not allowed in.

How exquisitely human was the wish for permanent happiness, and how thin human imagination became trying to achieve it.

I'm always annoyed about why black people have to bear the brunt of everybody else's contempt. If we are not totally understanding and smiling, suddenly we're demons.