Language can never 'pin down' slavery, genocide, war. Nor should it yearn for the arrogance to be able to do so. Its force, its felicity, is in its reach toward the ineffable.

Your life is already artful-waiting, just waiting, for you to make it art.

Beauty was not simply something to behold; it was something one could do.

Women's rights is not only an abstraction, a cause; it is also a personal affair. It is not only about us; it is also about me and you. Just the two of us.

Would it be all right? Would it be all right to go ahead and feel? Go ahead and count on something?

I don't know whether the bird you are holding is dead or alive, but what I do know is that it is in your hands. It is in your hands.

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