“Standing there, I loved myself and I hated myself. That's what the black Mary did to me, made me feel my glory and my shame at the same time.”

“I hated him. I hated them all. They made me hate myself even more than I already did.”

“I hate no black man. I hate no brown man. The same God that made me put them there too. My God is not only for Afrikaners.”

“Something you see in the book is my tendency to self-bully. It started when I was a gay black kid growing up in the suburbs. I wasn’t bullied by individuals; kids weren’t shoving me into lockers or calling me slurs to my face. Shame—electrified by racism and homophobia—was enforced by the broader culture though, and in response, I started bullying myself. I started saying cruel things about myself to myself. While I’ve generally grown out of self-hate, an ease with being tough and candid about myself to myself is an integral aspect of my writing…”

“My survival was up to me. I had nothing and I had no one. What I did have, I told myself, was my mind, my imagination, my memory, my feelings, my spirit. These were important and powerful things.”

“Warlord, you once told me I'd always know what you're thinking. What are your thoughts now?"

"Partly, I'm thinking that I might shame myself in my trews, just from the feel of you next to me.”

“I forgive you.
I don't condone or say that what you did to me was alright…
it was not.
I will never forget.
But I forgive you
for the sake of myself…so I may truly be Free.
I love Me.
Although it shall never be the same…
I can find it in my heart to
love you too.”

“My trust is not that I am holy, but that, being unholy, Christ died for me. My rest is here, not in what I am or shall be or feel or know, but in what Christ is and must be,— in what Christ did and is still doing as He stands before yonder throne of glory.”

“I am alone. No one stands beside me. I have no Dark Prince to ride in my chariot, to walk with me, to hold me to him. I have no one. And yet. I myself, at last, I have myself. And to me, at this time, it seems enough. It seems more, much more, than enough.”

“What if I should discover that the poorest of the beggars and the most impudent of offenders are all within me; and that I stand in need of the alms of my own kindness, that I, myself, am the enemy who must be loved -- what then?”