The Real Writer Is One Who Really

I Wasn't Afraid Of Being Poor; I Rather Took It For Granted. I Was Good At Getting By With Very Little. I Couldn't Imagine Sacrificing My Writing To Anything Else.

Every Baby Born Unloved, Unwanted, Is A Bill That Will Come Due In Twenty Years With Interest, An Anger That Must Find A Target, A Pain That Will Beget Pain. A Decade Downstream A Child Screams, A Woman Falls, A Synagogue Is Torched, A Firing Squad Is Summoned, A Button Is Pushed And The World Burns.

A Strong Woman Is A Woman Who Craves Love Like Oxygen Or She Turns Blue Choking. A Strong Woman Is A Woman Who Loves Strongly And Weeps Strongly And Is Strongly Terrified And Has Strong Needs. A Strong Woman Is Strong In Words, In Action, In Connection, In Feeling; She Is Not Strong As A Stone But As A Wolf Suckling Her Young. Strength Is Not In Her, But She Enacts It As The Wind Fills A Sail.

Purple As Tulips In May, Mauve Into Lush Velvet, Purple As The Stain Blackberries Leave On The Lips, On The Hands, The Purple Of Ripe Grapes Sunlit And Warm As Flesh.

The Real Writer Is One Who Really Writes.