I was in love with the whole world and all that lived in its rainy arms.

Love won't be tampered with, love won't go away. Push it to one side and it creeps to the other.

Revenge is a sorrow for the person who has to take it on. And the person who is rash enough to think it's going to help a situation is always wrong.

On any state elections map, the reservations are blue places. Native people are most often progressives, Democrats, and by no means gun-toting vigilantes.

Here I am, where I ought to be. A writer must have a place where he or she feels this, a place to love and be irritated with.

I got well by talking. Death could not get a word in edgewise, grew discouraged, and traveled on.