And the poem, I think, is only your voice speaking.
People ask me why I write. I write to find out what I know.
Soup is cuisines kindest course
Ransack the language as he might, words failed him. He wanted another landscape, and another tongue.
As a woman I have no country. As a woman my country is the whole world.
For books continue each other, in spite of our habit of judging them separately.