It's unimaginable to me that I wouldn't write, but it's very imaginable that I won't write for a little while.

It's unimaginable to me that I wouldn't write, but it's very imaginable that I won't write for a little while.

I have a theory that Southern madhouses are full of gifted women who were stifled.

I could run nearly naked on a hot, windy beach and plunge without care into a running diamond sea; roll on the sand and fling my arms wide to the sun and still be what I was...young.

Didn't I say I'd always be your same stars? If you get to missing me, just look up.

That sinuous southern life, that oblique and slow and complicated old beauty, that warm thick air and blood warm sea, that place of mists and languor and fragrant richness.

I think we all get too caught up in doing instead of just being sometimes.