I Am Deliberate And Afraid Of Nothing.

What Is There Possibly Left For Us To Be Afraid Of, After We Have Dealt Face To Face With Death And Not Embraced It? Once I Accept The Existence Of Dying As A Life Process, Who Can Ever Have Power Over Me Again?

For Those Of Us Who Write, It Is Necessary To Scrutinize Not Only The Truth Of What We Speak, But The Truth Of That Language By Which We Speak It.

Wherever The Bird With No Feet Flew, She Found Trees With No Limbs.

We Cannot Settle For The Pretenses Of Connection, Or For The Parodies Of Self-love.

We Have Too Often Been Expected To Speak All Things To All People And Speak Everyone Else's Position But Our Own.