What I do with my books is to create windows to my world that all may peer into. I share the images, the feelings and thoughts, and, I hope, the delight.

My life is not packaged, Not tidy. There are leftover strands and jagged Edges that cut even my friends.

When I began to read, I began to exist

I like people who take responsibility for their lives.

They take away your shoelaces and your belt so you can’t kill yourself no matter how bad it is. I guess making you live is part of the punishment.

If what I read doesn't reflect my life - whether I'm gay or Latino or on welfare - doesn't that really mean that my life is not valuable?

I couldn't speak well. I went to speech therapy for 10 years. And I was sort of frustrated in that sense.