A panda walks into a tea room and ordered a salad and ate it. Then it pulled out a pistol, shot the man in the next table dead, and walked out. Everyone rushed after it, shouting "Stop! Stop! Why did you do that?" "Becuase I am a panda," said the panda. "That's what pandas do. If you don't believe me, look in the dictionary." So they looked in the dictionary and sure enough they found Panda: Racoon-like animal of Asia. Eats shoots and leaves.

Almost anything carried to a logical extreme becomes depressing.

There are no right answers to wrong questions.

Anyhow they’re always exceptions. But most women, their only relationship to a man is having. Either owning or being owned.

I have no control over my writing. I have lots of good intentions, but no control. There's a story that wants to be told.

Before the moon I am, what a woman is, a woman of power, a woman's power, deeper than the roots of trees, deeper than the roots of islands, older than the Making, older than the moon.

Nothing said in words ever came out quite even. Things in words got twisted and ran together, instead of staying straight and fitting together.