Shame is the lie someone told you about yourself.

You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living.

And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.

I want to fall in love in such a way that the mere sight of a man, even a block away from me, will shake and pierce me, will weaken me, and make me tremble and soften and melt.

Anxiety is loves greatest killer.

It is a sign of great inner insecurity to be hostile to the unfamiliar.

That is my essential reason for writing, not for fame, not to be celebrated after death, but to heighten and create life all around me. I also write because when I am writing I reach the high moment of fusion sought by the mystics, the poets, the lovers, a sense of communion with the universe.