Hatred is a death wish for the hated, not a life wish for anything else. — Audre Lorde Copy Share Image
Every woman I have ever loved has left her print upon me, where I loved some invaluable piece of myself apart from me-so different… — Audre Lorde Copy Share Image
There are many kinds of open. . . Love is a word, another kind of open. . . Take my word for jewel in your open light. — Audre Lorde Copy Share Image
I can't really define it in sexual terms alone although our sexuality is so energizing why not enjoy it too? — Audre Lorde Copy Share Image
“For once we begin to feel deeply all the aspects of our lives, we begin to demand from ourselves and from our life-pursuits that… — Audre Lorde Copy Share Image
the fear of death is that you are dying too soon. Nobody wants to, but at the point that you die you can pray… — Audre Lorde Copy Share Image
“There is an important difference between openness and naïveté. Not everyone has good intentions nor means me well. I remind myself I do not… — Audre Lorde Copy Share Image
What are the words you do not yet have? What do you need to say? What are the tyrannies you swallow day by day… — Audre Lorde Copy Share Image
I learned to read from Mrs. Augusta Baker, the children's librarian. ... If that was the only good deed that lady ever did in… — Audre Lorde Copy Share Image
Poetry is not only dream and vision; it is the skeleton architecture of our lives. It lays the foundations for a future of change,… — Audre Lorde Copy Share Image
“I think that in America there are certain kinds of problems and in Russia there are certain kinds of problems, but basically, when you… — Audre Lorde Copy Share Image
Institutionalized rejection of differences is an absolute necessity in a profit economy which needs outsiders as surplus people. As members of such an economy,… — Audre Lorde Copy Share Image
The sharing of joy, whether physical, emotional, psychic, or intellectual, forms a bridge between the sharers which can be the basis for understanding much… — Audre Lorde Copy Share Image
“I forgot what we were celebrating. Because we were always celebrating something, a new job, a new poem, a new love, a new dream.” — Audre Lorde Copy Share Image
How a diamond comes into a knot of flame How a sound comes into a word, coloured By who pays what for speaking. Some… — Audre Lorde Copy Share Image
