To touch a person...to sleep with a person...is to become a pioneer," she whispered then, "a frontiersman at the edge of their private world, the strange, incomprehensible world of their interior, filled with customs you could never imitate, a language which sounds like your own but is really totally foreign, knowable only to them.

I have all the books I could need, and what more could I need than books?

... but as has been said, September read often, and liked it best when words did not pretend to be simple, but put on their full armor and rode out with colors flying.

She felt as she often did in class when she was nearly sure she had the right answer, but could not always make herself raise her hand.

A labyrinth, when it is big enough, is just the world.

I burn, I freeze; I am never warm. I am rigid; I forgot softness because it did not serve me.

We all live inside the terrible engine of authority, and it grinds and shrieks and burns so that no one will say: lines on maps are silly.