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They think that Americans are either white or Black. I can't wear that civil-rights button with the Black hand and the white hand shaking each other. I have a nightmare-after duking it out, someday Blacks and whites will shake hands over my head. I'm the little yellow man beneath the bridge of their hands and overlooked. (p307)

What's crazy is the idea that revolutionaries must shoot and bomb and kill, that revolution is the same as war. (p305)

He did too have a philosophy of life: Do the right thing by whoever crosses your path. Those coincidental people are your people. (p223)

Whatever there is when there isn't war has to be invented. What do people do in peace? Peace has barely been thought. (p306)

I am fat with love! Husky with ardor! Morbidly obese with devotion! A happy, busy bumblebee of marital enthusiasm. I positively hum around him, fussing and fixing. I have become a strange thing. I have become a wife. I find myself steering the ship of conversations—bulkily, unnaturally—just so I can say his name aloud. I have become a wife, I have become a bore, I have been asked to forfeit my Independent Young Feminist card. I don’t care.

In the whole dark universe, I've met you at this bit of fire, and we speak with each other, and listen to each other. All of life and the war led up to this present time of being here with you. (p209)

The media has saturated the legal environment. With the Internet, Facebook, YouTube, there’s no such thing as an unbiased jury anymore. No clean slate. Eighty, ninety percent of the case is decided before you get in the court room. So why not use it—control the story.

Community is not built once-and-for-all; people have to imagine, practice, and re-create it. (p306)

…soldiers on the battlefield of consumerism, armed with vinyl-covered checkbooks and quilted handbags.

The wind is time blowing by. (p189)

He spent the rest of the night looking for the plot of our ever-branching lives. A job can't be the plot of life, and not a soapy love-marriage-divorce--and hell no, not Viet Nam. (p288)

If a woman is going to write a Book of Peace, it is given her to know devastation. ("Fire" opening line)