I remember, in hot floods, the way he slept, still as death, with his face washed flat, stony … - Katherine Dunn

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We are slaves in the hands of nature - slaves to a bit of bread, slaves to praise, slaves to blame, slaves to wife, to husband, to child, slaves to everything.

Katherine Dunn

I remember, in hot floods, the way he slept, still as death, with his face washed flat, stony as a carved tomb and exquisite. His weakness and his ravening bitter needs were terrible, and beautiful, and irresistible as an earthquake. He scalded or smothered anyone he needed, but his needing and the hurt that it caused me were the most life I have ever had. Remember what a poor thing I have always been and forgive me.

Beautiful, Earthquakes, Hurt, Scalded, Smothered, Way

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My paintings are reflections of my own inner mysteries. . . they all reflect my relationship to my steadiest of companions and muses - nature and animals.

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But the idea that women can't take care of themselves still permeates our culture.

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And while national military forces have historically resisted the full participation of women soldiers, female talent has found plenty of scope in revolutionary and terrorist groups around the planet.

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In my next life, I plan to be a more respectable creature. For now, this is what is given to us. So I don't know - I think we're all freaks at heart. I think some people strive desperately to be normal, and I think other people strive to be abnormal.

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American culture is torn between our long romance with violence and our terror of the devastation wrought by war and crime and environmental havoc.

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