Anxiety is loves greatest killer.

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.

We cannot cure the evils of politics with politics.

The possession of knowledge does not kill the sense of wonder and mystery. There is always more mystery.

There were always in me, two women at least, one woman desperate and bewildered, who felt she was drowning and another who would leap into a scene, as upon a stage, conceal her true emotions because they were weaknesses, helplessness, despair, and present to the world only a smile, an eagerness, curiosity, enthusiasm, interest.

Ordinary life does not interest me.

All of my creation is an effort to weave a web of connection with the world: I am always weaving it because it was once broken.