“Time can do all sorts of things. It’s almost like a magician. It can turn autumn into spring and babies into children, seeds into flowers and tadpoles into frogs, caterpillars into cocoons, and cocoons into butterflies. And life into death. There’s nothing that time can’t do. Except run backwards. That’s its trouble really, it can only go one way.”

“Mrs Chadwick used to say the same about my English, about going round the houses. But to be honest, I like going round the houses. And as for beginning at the beginning, the reason I never start there is that I don’t know where the beginning is, and that’s the honest truth. And anyway, I’ve never known anything in my whole life that ever started at the beginning. Things aren’t like that. They usually start about halfway through, or near the end, and then work their way backwards, that’s how must things are.”

“Blood is thicker than water, as people say. (But then again so is ketchup.)”

“6 feet under stars is a place that doesn't exist. It's a place in your mind where everything and anything is possible. It's a place with no rules or limitations. It's a place where only 2 people can be at a time where no one can judge them and no one can try to break them apart”

“Death is a butterfly in it's cocoon waiting to fly . . . ”

“I have finally reverted the publishing rights for my Cocoon Trilogy back to me and, for the first time, e-published the final book - Butterfly: Tomorrow's Children. Cocoon, the movie and the book, was only the beginning.”

“The first time he had taken the massa to one of these "high-falutin' to-dos," as Bell called them, Kunta had been all but overwhelmed by conflicting emotions: awe, indignation, envy, contempt, fascination, revulsion—but most of all a deep loneliness and melancholy from which it took him almost a week to recover. He couldn't believe that such incredible wealth actually existed, that people really lived that way. It took him a long time, and a great many more parties, to realize that they didn't live that way, that it was all strangely unreal, a kind of beautiful dream the white folks were having, a lie they were telling themselves: that goodness can come from badness, that it's possible to be civilized with one another without treating as human beings those whose blood, sweat, and mother's milk made possible the life of privilege they led.”