When my turn on the program comes, I am not nervous at all—because all this is happening out of time, out of space. I am, for a moment, a figure of my own fantasy, and I play my appointed role as if I were in the movies.

The more words I have, the more distinct, precise my perceptions become--and such lucidity is a form of joy.

Sometimes I long to forget… It is painful to be conscious of two worlds.

I know that language will be a crucial instrument, that I can overcome the stigma of my marginality, the weight of presumption against me, only if the reassuringly right sounds come out of my mouth.