Writing Is A Political Instrument.

People Are Trapped In History And History Is Trapped In Them.

An Identity Is Questioned Only When It Is Menaced, As When The Mighty Begin To Fall, Or When The Wretched Begin To Rise, Or When The Stranger Enters The Gates, Never, Thereafter, To Be A Stranger.

You Write In Order To Change The World.

Perhaps Home Is Not A Place But Simply An Irrevocable Condition.

The Wretched Of The Earth Do Not Decide To Become Extinct, They Resolve, On The Contrary, To Multiply: Life Is Their Weapon Against Life, Life Is All That They Have.