“Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone wont either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are...”

“To love another human in all of her splendor and imperfect perfection , it is a magnificent task...tremendous and foolish and human.”

“The music was more than music- at least what we are used to hearing. The music was feeling itself. The sound connected instantly with something deep and joyous. Those powerful moments of true knowl...”

“Freedom, I found is not only in the running but in the heart, the mind, the hands.”

“Women without children are also the best of mothers,often, with the patience,interest, and saving grace that the constant relationship with children cannot always sustain. I come to crave our talk ...”

“To join the company of women, to be adults, we go through a period of proudly boasting of having survived our own mother's indifference, anger, overpowering love, the burden of her pain, her tenden...”

“Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.”

“You think because he doesn't love you that you are worthless. You think that because he doesn't want you anymore that he is right -- that his judgement and opinion of you are correct. If he throws ...”

“The only noise now was the rain, pattering softly with the magnificent indifference of nature for the tangled passions of humans.”

“It seemed my wholelife was composed of these disjointedfractions of time, hanging around in onepublic place and then another, as if I werewaiting for trains that never came. And, likeone of those g...”

“Stress level: extreme. It's like she was a jar with the lid screwed on too tight, and inside the jar were pickles, angry pickles, and they were fermenting, and about to explode.”

“No black woman writer in this culture can write "too much". Indeed, no woman writer can write "too much"...No woman has ever written enough.”

“When you reduce a woman to writing, she makes you think of a thousand other women”

“I would venture to guess that Anon, who wrote so many poems without signing them, was often a woman.”