Politics Is Pervasive. Everything Is Political And

The Things We Want Are Transformative, And We Don’t Know Or Only Think We Know What Is On The Other Side Of That Transformation Never To Get Lost Is Not To Live.

The Battle With Men Who Explain Things Has Trampled Down Many Women - Of My Generation, Of The Up-and-coming Generation We Need So Badly, Here And In Pakistan And Bolivia And Java, Not To Speak Of The Countless Women Who Came Before Me And Were Not Allowed Into The Laboratory, Or The Library, Or The Conversation, Or The Revolution, Or Even The Category Called Human.

Sometimes A Few Passionate People Change The World; Sometimes They Start A Mass Movement And Millions Do.

Musing Takes Place In A Kind Of Meadowlands Of The Imagination, A Part Of The Imagination That Has Not Yet Been Plowed, Developed, Or Put To Any Immediately Practical Use…time Spent There Is Not Work Time, Yet Without That Time The Mind Becomes Sterile, Dull, Domesticated. The Fight For Free Space — For Wilderness And Public Space — Must Be Accompanied By A Fight For Free Time To Spend Wandering In That Space.

Solitude In The City Is About The Lack Of Other People Or Rather Their Distance Beyond A Door Or Wall, But In Remote Places It Isn’t An Absence But The Presence Of Something Else, A Kind Of Humming Silence In Which Solitude Seems As Natural To Your Species As To Any Other, Words Strange Rocks You May Or May Not Turn Over.