Despair Speaks Evenly, In A Quiet Voice.

When I'm Writing I Don't Dream Much; It's Like The Dreaming Gets Used In The Writing.

What Is The Use Trying To Describe The Flowing Of A River At Any One Moment, And Then At The Next Moment, And Then At The Next, And The Next, And The Next? You Wear Out. You Say: There Is A Great River, And It Flows Through This Land, And We Have Named It History.

The Misogyny That Shapes Every Aspect Of Our Civilization Is The Institutionalized Form Of Male Fear And Hatred Of What They Have Denied And Therefore Cannot Know, Cannot Share: That Wild Country, The Being Of Women.

We're Each Of Us Alone, To Be Sure. What Can You Do But Hold Your Hand Out In The Dark?

That I Was Not Dueling With The King, But Trying To Communicate With Him, Was Itself An Incommunicable Fact.