An Eskimo shaman said, Life's greatest danger lies in the fact that man's food consists entirely of souls.

Private life, book life, took place where words met imagination without passing through the world.

There is neither a proportional relationship, nor an inverse one, between a writer’s estimation of a work in progress & its actual quality. The feeling that the work is magnificent, & the feeling that it is abominable, are both mosquitoes to be repelled, ignored, or killed, but not indulged.

The answer must be, I think, that beauty and grace are performed whether or not we will or sense them. The least we can do is try to be there.

He judged the instant and let go; he flung himself loose into the stars.

I work mornings only. I go out to lunch. Afternoons I play with the baby, walk with my husband, or shovel mail.

An Inuit hunter asked the local missionary priest: If I did not know about God and sin, would I go to hell? No, said the priest, not if you did not know. Then why, asked the Inuit earnestly, did you tell me?