The real payoff is the writing itself, that a day when you have gotten your work done is a good day, that total dedication is the point.

Perfection is shallow, unreal, and fatally uninteresting.

The women's movement burst forth when I was fifteen. That was when I began to believe that life might semi-work out after all. The cavalry had arrived. Women were starting to say that you got to tell the truth now, that you had to tell the truth if you were going to heal and have an authentic life.

When hope is not pinned wriggling onto a shiny image or expectation, it sometimes floats forth and opens.

It's intrusive for grandparents to think they're in charge. It's manipulative. Also, it's self-destructive, since if the parents have to resist you, you won't get your mitts on the kid as often.

If you asked me, parents were supposed to affect the life of their child in such a way that the child grows up to be responsible, able to participate in life and in community.

The whistle is always waiting to be blown, and in some ways, it gets me to do better work.