Artists are never complete people. But if it's art that completes them, then what is taken away?

Book-publishing is all about politics. Agents, editors, which books will be puffed, which ignored, etc.

The particular source of frustration of women observing their own self-study and measuring their worth as women by the distance they kept from men necessitated that a distance be kept, and so what vindicated them also poured fuel on the furnace of their rage. One delight presumed another dissatisfaction, but their hatefulness confessed to their own lack of power to please. They hated men because they needed husbands, and they loathed the men they chased away for going.

There is a terrible blindness in the love that wants only to accommodate. It's not only to do with omissions and half-truths. It implants a lack of being in the speaker and robs the self of an identity without which it is impossible for one to grow close to another.

Faculty Meetings are held whenever the need to show off is combined with the imperative of accomplishing nothing.

The man who has faith in logic is always cuckolded by reality.

Reviewing books is all about coziness. It is all of it a kind of caucus race. Women review women, Jewish writers review and praise Jewish writers, blacks review blacks, etc.