His words cost him so much, she thought, not like hers that just came dancing out of the air and went back into it. He spoke from his marrow. It made what he said a solemn compliment, which she accepted gratefully...

Words are events, they do things, change things. They transform both speaker and hearer; they feed energy back and forth and amplify it

We live in capitalism. Its power seems inescapable. So did the divine right of kings.

I think hard times are coming. We will need writers who can remember freedom. Poets, visionaries, the realists of a larger reality.

We need writers who know the difference between the production of a commodity and the practice of an art.