“Because my mouth Is wide with laughterAnd my throat Is deep with song,You do not thinkI suffer afterI have held my painSo long?Because my mouth Is wide with laughterYou do not hear My inner cry?Because my feet Are gay with dancing You do not knowI die?”

“My feet shall run because of you. My feet shall dance because of you. My heart shall beat because of you. My eyes see because of you. My mind think because of you, and I shall love because of you.”

“I am deeply sensitive to the spell of nationalism. I can play about thirty Bohemian folk songs ... on my mouth-organ. My oldest friend, who is Czech and a patriot, cannot bear to hear me play them because he says I do it in such a schmalzy way, 'crying into the mouth organ'. I do not think I could have written the book on nationalism which I did write, were I not capable of crying, with the help of a little alcohol, over folk songs, which happen to be my favourite form of music.”

“I'd rather lie under an elephant suffering from diarrea with my mouth open wide.”

“I'll do my dreaming with my eyes wide open, and I'll do my looking back with my eyes closed.”

“Clench clench these strong teeth in this strong mouth. My mouth. Of my body. In my house. My mouth? Chapped lips swollen and bloody? Dream dreaming wide and thunder? My mouth! My God! This is me speaking. Not mouthing. Not typing and twitching. Not writing a suicide note the length of a novel that will never be finished. I hear voices now but I know they are not the voices of fathers or lovers, or mothers or angels or demons, but the sounds of my own private wars echoing the battles of women before me and near me. No wonder I do not make people comfortable. I am a mirror. I have far too many things to say. (p. 237-238)”