All art is knowing when to stop.

Sexist language, racist language, theistic language - all are typical of the policing languages of mastery, and cannot, do not, permit new knowledge or encourage the mutual exchange of ideas.

In times of dread, artists must never choose to remain silent.

When am I happy and when am I sad and what is the difference? What do I need to know to stay alive? What is true in the world?

They seemed to have taken all of their smoothly cultivated ignorance, their exquisitely learned self-hatred, their elaborately designed hopelessness and sucked it all up into a fiery cone of scorn that had burned for ages in the hollows of their minds― cooled ―and spilled over lips of outrage, consuming whatever was in its path.

I couldn't bear to have people mispronounce my name. But the person I was was this person who was called Chloe.

You rely on a sentence to say more than the denotation and the connotation; you revel in the smoke that the words send up.