I had a feeling that Pandora's box contained the mysteries of woman's sensuality, so different from a man's and for which man's language was so inadequate. The language of sex had yet to be invented. The language of the senses was yet to be explored.

I stopped loving my father a long time ago. What remained was the slavery to a pattern.

If you do not breathe through writing, if you do not cry out in writing, or sing in writing, then don't write, because our culture has no use for it.

I wanted to remember in order to be able to return.

If I love you it means we share the same fantasies, the same madnesses

Innocence was gone from all our acts. Our habitual state of rebellion became a serious political crime.

Your eyes make me shy