I write because I've always written, can't stop. I am a writing animal. The way a silk worm is a silk-producing animal.

For there is never any way to go but in.

Our society is dependent on some precarious mechanisms, and they are very dicey. They can easily collapse.

Women often get dropped from memory, and then history.

This is an inevitable and easily recognizable stage in every revolutionary movement: reformers must expect to be disowned by those who are only too happy to enjoy what has been won for them.

What is charm then? The free giving of a grace, the spending of something given by nature in her role of spendthrift ... something extra, superfluous, unnecessary, essentially a power thrown away.

I am interested only in stretching myself, on living as fully as I can.