I ain't never liked violence.
Authenticity is too big a subject to just toss in with the question about the photographs!
It was not the case that one thing morphed into another, child into woman. You remained the person you were before things happened to you. The person you were when you thought a small cut string could determine the course of a year. You also became the person to whom certain things happened. Who passed into the realm where you no longer questioned the notion of being trapped in one form. You took on that form, that identity, hoped for its recognition from others, hoped someone would love it and you.
Every person has a range. In fiction, you get to be it all. I’m as much the men in my book as I am the women. I write how I write and there is no mission to stake a claim.
And here I arrive at my point. The point is that everyone has a different dream. The point is that it is a grave mistake to assume your dream is in any way shared, that it’s a common dream. Not only is it not shared, not common, there is no reason to assume that other people don’t find you and your dream utterly revolting.
I don't quite see the 20th century as one of chaos. But I believe in certain inevitable outcomes of a materialist nature.
I was doing that thing the infatuated do, stitching destiny onto the person we want stitched to us.
Toil and pleasure, dissimilar in nature, are nevertheless united by a certain natural bond.
I now understand what Nelle Morton meant when she said that one of the great tasks in our time is to "hear people to speech. " Behind their fearful silence, our students want to find their voices, speak their voices, have their voices heard. A good teacher is one who can listen to those voices even before they are spoken-so that someday they can speak with truth and confidence.
The way I fight, it's not me beatin' the man. I make the man whip himself.
I don't have a normal life.