I've Never Let The Criticism Deter Me.

There's Something To Be Said About A Slightly Plump Person—you Have Just Enough Of Too Much.

It's Not That I'm A Very Good Person. It's That I Think I Should At Least Look At The Ways In Which I Am Not A Good Person, The Ways In Which I So Readily Become The Person Who Would Not Notice That The Wonderful Clothing I'm Wearing Someone Is Probably Dying For.

Why Is A Picture Of Something Real Eventually More Exciting Than The Thing Itself?

In My Writing I'm Trying To Explore The Violations People Commit Upon Each Other. And The Important Thing Isn't Whether I'm Angry. The More Important Thing Is, Is It True? Do These Things Really Happen?

The People Who Invented Race, Who Grouped Us Together As "black," Were Inventing And Categorizing Their Ability To Do Something Vicious And Wrong.