“To that piece in each of us that refuses to be silent.”

The erotic is a measure between the beginnings of our sense of self and the chaos of our strongest feelings.

A choice of pains. That’s what living was all about.

I am still learning – how to take joy in all the people I am, how to use all my selves in the service of what I believe, how to accept when I fail and rejoice when I succeed.

I am still learning – how to take joy in all the people I am, how to use all my selves in the service of what I believe, how to accept when I fail and rejoice when I succeed.

One pays a lot, we all pay a lot, for awareness.

Pain is important: how we evade it, how we succumb to it, how we deal with it, how we transcend it.

Oppression is as American as apple pie.

I have come to believe that caring for myself is not self-indulgent. Caring for myself is an act of survival.

Institutionalized rejection of difference is an absolute necessity in a profit economy which needs outsiders as surplus people.

Our visions begin with our desires.

Guilt is not a response to anger; it is a response to one’s own actions or lack of action.

Our feelings are our most genuine paths to knowledge.

Women are powerful and dangerous.

What you hear in my voice is fury, not suffering. Anger, not moral authority.

Some problems we share as women, some we do not.

I want to live the rest of my life, however long or short, with as much sweetness as I can decently manage, loving all the people I love, and doing as much as I can of the work I still have to do.

I’ve enjoyed photography, ever since I was a teenager, and I’m still at it. I’ve had shows in various cities, around the country, and I have a number of pieces in permanent collections in museums that I’m very proud of.

Other times, you’re doing some piece of work and suddenly you get feedback that tells you that you have touched something that is very alive in the cosmos.

You should turn around at the end of the day and say I really like that piece of work, or that piece of work sucked. Not, was that popular or wasn’t it popular?

My dear Jesus, my Savior, is so deeply written in my heart, that I feel confident, that if my heart were to be cut open and chopped to pieces, the name of Jesus would be found written on every piece.

You do not have to be similar to fit in. Puzzle pieces that match are never the same.

When we lose a piece of love we were holding so close to our heart and our soul for so long. We sometimes wonder if it will return the same or differently or has it fallen beneath the settling of our past.

There’s a difference between loving someone as they are whole, and wanting to see all of their pieces. I’ve understood this for a while now, and I don’t fault anyone for it.

I wish I could write this with a full heart, but I gave some of its pieces in a way when I was looking for a home.