I was brought up among the sort of self-important women who had a husband as one has an alibi.

The evening passes somehow; I watch television with Nancy, or I write. It is difficult, not having a family, and it is difficult to explain. I always go to bed early. And I am always ready for Monday morning, that time that other people dread.

That sun, that light had faded, and she had faded with them. Now she was as grey as the season itself.

No blame should attach to telling the truth. But it does, it does.

When you make a break for freedom you don't necessarily find company on the way.

There are moments when you feel free, moments when you have energy, moments when you have hope, but you can't rely on any of these things to see you through. Circumstances do that.

I suppose what one wants really is ideal company and books are ideal company.