“I move throughout the world...guided by instinct, connecting through trust, and constantly watching for serendipitous opportunities. ”

“When we are finished the little boy walks over to me and looks up at my chest. Then he reaches up and cups my breast in his hand. The mother comes over and does the same thing with my other breast. Yes I am the same I nod. Look. I pull up my shirt and unhook my bra. My breasts pop out and they both smile. I think about the Zapotec village in Mexico where I was not accepted until I was wearing their clothes and the Balinese ceremonies I would never have attended in anything but a kebaya and a sarong. I smile when I realize that if I were to live here I would walk around topless. If I weren't with three westerners I would do it right now.”

“If you keep your destiny in mind, every moment in life becomes an opportunity for moving closer to it.”

“Creativity comes from trust. Trust your instincts. And never hope more than you work.”

“Look, words are like the air: they belong to everybody. Words are not the problem; it's the tone, the context, where those words are aimed, and in whose company they are uttered. Of course murderers and victims use the same words, but I never read the words utopia, or beauty, or tenderness in police descriptions. Do you know that the Argentinean dictatorship burnt The Little Prince ? And I think they were right to do so, not because I do not love The Little Prince , but because the book is so full of tenderness that it would harm any dictatorship.”

“هائلٌ هو الحزن الذى فى مقدور رجل وامرأة أن يخلُقاهفيما بينهما،مثلما هما كبيران ذانك العصفورانالواقفان على الغصن يتناقرانوكبيرةٌ هى الشجرة نفسهامع أمطار تحت الشمسباديةٍ على وجههاستمطر أم لن تمطر؟سيغرّد العصفوران نفساهما؟هل سيدومتدفق ذلك الحزن الهائل مثل بحيرةأو بحرٍ بين رجل وامرأة؟هل سيطير الحزن بين شجرة وشجرة؟مثل خطوات وحيدة فى غرفة؟مثل لآلىء فى الهواء؟مثل ألواح مثل جسورٍ مدمرَّة؟ثمة غُصَين سقط على الغصنطافيا.هائل هو الحزن الذى فى مقدوررجل وامرأة أن يسبّباه لنفسيهمامثلما هو هائل إبحار الغصن فى البحيرةمبتلاً بجسارتهِ ذاتِها.”

“Nosotros arrastramos los pies en ríos de sangre seca, almas que se pegaron a la tierra por amor, no queremos otros mundos que el de la libertad y esta palabra no la palabreamos porque sabemos hace mucha muerte que se habla enamorado y no del amor, se habla claro, no de la claridad, se habla libre, no de la libertad.”