Good things happen to those who hustle.

The personal, if it is deep enough, becomes universal, mythical, symbolic.

The impetus to grow and live intensely is so powerful in me I cannot resist it. I will work, I will love my husband, but I will fulfill myself.

The obstacle became his alibi for weakness.

We are like sculptors, constantly carving out of others the image we long for, need, love or desire, often against reality, against their benefit, and always, in the end, a disappointment, because it does not fit them.

The suppression of inner patterns in favor of patterns created by society is dangerous to us.

I don't mind working, holding my ground intellectually, artistically; but as a woman, oh, God, as a woman I want to be dominated