We Become What We Pay Attention To.

In A Way, Humans Are Not Made Of Skin And Bones As Such, As We're Made Of Stories.

I Wondered What It Was Like To Be Inside Her, Just A Curl Of Flesh Swimming In The Darkness, The Quiet Things That Had Passed Between Us.

I Vividly Remember The Summer Of 1964 With Its Voter Registration Drives, Boiling Racial Tensions, And The Erupting Awareness Of The Cruelty Of Racism. I Was Never The Same After That Summer.

Betrayal Of Any Kind Is Hard, But Betrayal By One's Religion Is Excruciating. It Makes You Want To Rage And Weep.

Whatever Else You Do, Listen To Your Deepest Self. Love Her And Be True To Her, Speak Her Truth, Always.