“Being a sensualist meant realizing that my body grew flowers because being sensual required so much toiling of the soil, watering with arousal of thought and actions, and deep prayer for the orgasmic joy of watching your flowers bloom.”

“Never, I realized, would I stand as firm as the thick wooden cello. A man who cradles an instrument is not made to cradle a woman. I swore I would never allow myself to be taken by an artist again.”

“Marinating in this divine chalice of magic and mystery, I shuddered in gratitude.”

“There is surrender in the stillness. In bowing my head low enough to hear the pulse of the earth beneath me. In saying, I do not need to carry it all. Not today.“