Sweet, she thought. He must think I can't bear to hear him say it. That after all I have told him and after telling me how many feet I have, "goodbye" would break me to pieces. Ain't that sweet. "So long," she murmured from the far side of the trees.

We're all surrounded by what I call faux language, fake language of commerce, of news media.

Narrative is radical, creating us at the very moment it is being created.

I don't do the things other people call "play."

Girl, I got my mind. And what goes on in it. Which is to say, I got me...my lonely is mine.

What difference do it make if the thing you scared of is real or not?

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