“If we want a beloved community, we must stand for justice.”

Death is with you all the time; you get deeper in it as you move towards it, but it’s not unfamiliar to you. It’s always been there, so what becomes unfamiliar to you when you pass away from the moment is really life.

Life-transforming ideas have always come to me through books.

As long as women are using class or race power to dominate other women, feminist sisterhood cannot be fully realized.

There will be no mass-based feminist movement as long as feminist ideas are understood only by a well-educated few.

All the men I fall for seem to have a commitment problem.

If you do not know what you feel, then it is difficult to choose love; it is better to fall. Then you do not have to be responsible for your actions.

The rage of the oppressed is never the same as the rage of the privileged.

The practice of love offers no place of safety. We risk loss, hurt, pain. We risk being acted upon by forces outside our control.

I believe that it is impossible for two individuals not committed to their own and each other’s well being to sustain a healthy and enduring relationship.

When we face pain in relationships our first response is often to sever bonds rather than to maintain commitment.

If any female feels she need anything beyond herself to legitimate and validate her existence, she is already giving away her power to be self-defining, her agency.

The function of art is to do more than tell it like it is-it’s to imagine what is possible.

To be truly visionary we have to root our imagination in our concrete reality while simultaneously imagining possibilities beyond that reality.

I think Black people need to take self-esteem seriously.

Any society based on domination supports and condones violence.

Genuine love is rarely an emotional space where needs are instantly gratified.

Laramie’ often brings to mind ‘Our Town,’ the beloved Thornton Wilder study of life, love and death in parochial New Hampshire.

Jealousy is that pain which a man feels from the apprehension that he is not equally beloved by the person whom he entirely loves.

Your lips, beloved, are like a honeycomb: honey and milk are under the tongue. And the smell of your clothes is like the smell of my home.

To be beloved is all I need, And whom I love, I love indeed.

The curt truth is that, in a deep secret way, the state of being beloved is intolerable to many.

There are the lover and the beloved, but these two come from different countries.

The beloved fears and hates the lover, and with the best of reasons. For the lover is forever trying to strip bare his beloved.

Cry, the beloved country, for the unborn child that is the inheritor of our fear. Let him not love the earth too deeply… For fear will rob him of all if he gives too much.