“For I am I: ergo, the truth of myself; my own sphinx, conflict, chaos, vortex—asymmetric to all rhythms, oblique to all paths. I am the prism between black and white: mine own unison in duality.”

“[O]ur own bodies are changing every second. Yet we take the body to be our Self; and, speaking in terms of it, we say, “I am hungry” or “I am lame”; “I am black” or “I am white.” These are all just the conditions of the body. We touch the truth when we say, “My body aches,” implying the body belongs to us and that therefore we are not that. (87)”

“I feel as if I am the eye of my own storm, still, like the mermaid, at the center of my own chaos.”

“You are in charge of your own karma, your own life, your own spiritual path, and your own liberation, just as I am in charge of mine.”

“Now my wings are black, I thought, and yet I am not like my friends. We are all different. Each for his own memories, and his own invisible golden dreams.”

“When I said, “I am my mother, but I’m not,” I was saying my path would be my own.”