At The Museum A Troubled Woman Destroys

To Make Love Is To Become Like This Infant Again. We Grope With Our Mouths Toward The Body Of Another Being, Whom We Trust, Who Takes Us In Her Arms. We Rock Together With This Loved One. We Move Beyond Speech. Our Bodies Move Past All The Controls We Have Learned. We Cry Out In Ecstasy, In Feeling. We Are Back In A Natural World Before Culture Tried To Erase Our Experience Of Nature. In This World, To Touch Another Is To Express Love; There Is No Idea Apart From Feeling, And No Feeling Which Does Not Ring Through Our Bodies And Our Souls At Once.

The Mind Can Forget What The Body, Defined By Each Breath, Subject To The Heart Beating, Does Not.

Although The Many Virtues That Courtesans Possessed Were Employed To Defy Circumstances, The Role They Played Depended On The Same Circumstances Over Which They Triumphed- Conditions Which To, Fortunately For Modern Women, No Longer Exist.

In My Lifetime I Have Seen Democracy Begin To Expand, Not Only To Include Those Who Have Been Excluded, But To Provide A Listening Arena, A Vocabulary, An Intelligent Reception For Stories That Have Been Buried. Not Just Stories Of The Disenfranchised And The Marginalized, But Marginalized And Disenfranchised Histories Even In The Lives Of The Accepted And The Privileged.

Waging War Is Not A Primary Physical Need.