Good loving is hard to find, you got lucky babe, when I found you.
If what we change does not change us we are playing with blocks.
Life is the first gift, love is the second, and understanding the third.
We must shine with hope, stained glass windows that shape light into icons, glow like lanterns borne before a procession. Who can bear hope back into the world but us.
Praise our choices, sister, for each doorway open to us was taken by squads of fighting women who paid years of trouble and struggle, who paid their wombs, their sleep, their lives that we might walk through these gates upright. Doorways are sacred to women for we are the doorways of life and we must choose what comes in and what goes out. Freedom is our real abundance.
We seek not rest but transformation. We are dancing through each other as doorways.
I will choose what enters me, what becomes flesh of my flesh. Without choice, no politics, no ethics lives. I am not your cornfield, not your uranium mine, not your calf for fattening, not your cow for milking. You may not use me as your factory. Priests and legislators do not hold shares in my womb or my mind. If I give it to you, I want it back. My life is a non-negotiable demand.
No matter what parents do, kids retain their uniqueness.
Love brings about passion and passion is always marketable.
In the land of ideas, you are always renting.
My whole family could sing. My family harmonized without any instruments to accompany them.