Today I am a small blue thing Like a marble or an eye

Writing is always personal in some way but not always in a direct way.

If language were liquid, it would be rushing in. Instead here we are in a silence more eloquent than any word could ever be.

To me, a feminist belong in the same category as a humanist or an advocate for human rights. I don't see why someone who's a feminist should be thought of differently.

I always thought that if I was popular I must be doing something wrong.

I like to write about things that are extreme in some form. I like to write about something I feel I have to write about.

A lot of my writing is not terribly civilized.

There are no rules in fights with girls. Just hurting.

I was always inventing characters and making up stories.

I dont think gender is aesthetically defining for me.

I had some fears as a kid, but I was also relatively fearless. Maybe that's a result of living half the time in reality and the other half in fantasy.

part memory part distance remainingmine in the ways that I learn to miss you

Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute.

I have a wife, I have sons; all these hostages have I given to fortune.

My passion for giving is no different than yours. I give because it's in my heart to give. I give because I was taught to give at a very early age. This is how I developed my passion for giving.

The myth of black women profiting at the expense of black men is the oldest rap around.

Every time somebody opens their mouth they have an opportunity to do one of two things - connect or divide.

I need about three seats lengthwise to sleep on a plane. It's not easy for me to curl up.

All passions that suffer themselves to be relished and digested are but moderate.

Of all the heavenly gifts that mortal men commend, What trusty treasure in the world can counterfail a friend?

And Thou, vast Ocean! on whose awful face Time’s iron feet can print no ruin-trace, By breezes lull’d, or by the storm-blasts driv’n, Thy majesty uplifts the mind to heaven.