The True Self Is Not Our Creation,

Our Earlier Lives Aren't Wrong, They Are Just Pre-construction. Our Lives Are Meant To Unfold, To Evolve, And That's Good. The Only Wrong Thing, Perhaps, Is Permanently Hesitating On The Verge Of Courage, Which Would Prevent This Process From Taking Place.

I Vividly Remember The Summer Of 1964 With Its Voter Registration Drives, Boiling Racial Tensions, And The Erupting Awareness Of The Cruelty Of Racism. I Was Never The Same After That Summer.

Rebirth Is Almost Impossible Without The Darkness.....i Tell Myself I Am Experiencing The Death Of Myself As Mother, The Death Of Myself As A Younger Woman -- Precious Old Lives Going By The Wayside. Of Course, I Should Let Myself Grieve. To Deny The Grief Is To Squander A Transforming And Radiant Possibility.

I Missed Rosaleen's Snoring The Way You'd Miss The Sound Of The Ocean Waves After You've Gotten Used To Sleeping With Them. I Didn't Realize How It Had Comforted Me. Quiteness Has A Strange, Spongy Hum That Can Nearly Break Your Eardrums.

I Marvel At How Good I Was Before I Met Him, How I Lived Molded To The Smallest Space Possible, My Days The Size Of Little Beads That Passed Without Passion Through My Fingers. So Few People Know What They're Capable Of. At Forty-two I'd Never Done Anything That Took My Own Breath Away, And I Suppose Now That Was Part Of The Problem - My Chronic Inability To Astonish Myself.