A slow hour passed, distracted by intermittent drops of moisture from above, as if the sky were conducting a feasibility study on the implications of rain. Of committing to a course of action.

There will be no redemption because the men who run this place do not want redemption. They want to be as near to hell as they can.

An elevator doesn’t exist without its freight. If there’s no one to get on, the elevator remains in quiescence. The elevator and the passenger need each other.

Extraordinary women who love and heal.

In L.A., nobody touches you. We're always behind this metal and glass.

God the Father, the supreme Architect, had already built this cosmic home we behold, the most sacred temple of His godhead, by the laws of His mysterious wisdom.

A poem is not an expression, nor is it an object. Yet it somewhat partakes of both. What a poem is is never to be known, for which I have learned to be grateful.

I love slow readers. And readers who think about what I've written, think about how it's written - and copy me!

Smell is a word, perfume is literature.

Me? I'm just a literary girl gone wrong. Slow with the tongue. Quick with the pen. Undeniably cute. But, on the whole, ill-equipped for the privilege of living.

You have to compete in life because if you don't have no competition - no competition, no spirit, you know, you'll fall under the slightest struggle.

The first decade of your life is really important; it's formative.