I Like Cooking, But I Think Someone

I Didn't Really Understand Racism Because I Grew Up In An All-black Society, So I Didn't See How It Was Possible Not To Like Me!

Gardeners (or Just Plain Simple Writers Who Write About The Garden) Always Have Something They Like Intensely And In Particular, Right At The Moment You Engage Them In The Reality Of The Borders They Cultivate, The Space In The Garden They Occupy At Any Moment, They Like In Particular This, Or They Like In Particular That.

I Didn't Know It Was Possible To Be Successful As A Writer, So I Wasn't Afraid To Fail.

One Day I Was Living Silently In A Personal Hell, Without Anyone To Tell What I Felt, Without Even Knowing That The Feelings I Had Were Possible To Have; And Then One Day I Was Not Living Like That At All. I Had Begun To See The Past Like This: There Is A Line; You Can Draw It Yourself, Or Sometimes It Gets Drawn For You; Either Way, There It Is, Your Past, A Collection Of People You Used To Be And Things You Used To Do. Your Past Is The Person You No Longer Are, The Situations You Are No Longer In.

The Truth We Have To Face About The World We Live In Is That It's Driven By Profit, And Contradictions And Doubts Are Not Profitable. They Yield Wisdom, But Wisdom Is Not Profitable. I Find Pleasure In Doubt, But Let's Face It, My Pleasure Is Not Very Profitable. To Me, The Truth Is That Things Mean Many Things At Once, And All Of Them Opposed To Each Other, And All Of Them True.