My mother, religious-negro, proud of having waded through a storm, is, very obviously a sturdy bridge that I have crossed over on.

Take away the miseries and you take away some folks' reason for living.

When you dream, you dialogue with aspects of yourself that normally are not with you in the daytime and you discover that you know a great deal more than you thought you did.

I've never been convinced that experience is linear, circular, or even random. It just is. I try to put it in some kind of order to extract meaning from it, to bring meaning to it.

Revolution begins with the self, in the self.

It's a dismally lonely business, writing.