Countries are either mothers or fathers, and engender the emotional bristle secretly reserved for either sire.

I did not sleep. I never do when I am over-happy, over-unhappy, or in bed with a strange man.

Promiscuity is the death of love.

What we forgot as children is that our parents are children, also. The child in them has not been satisfied or met or loved, often.

It's not the vote women need, we should be armed.

never forget this moment, the hum of the bee, the saffron threads of the flower, the drawn blinds, nature's assiduousness and human cruelty.

All my life I had feared imprisonment, the nun's cell, the hospital bed, the places where one faced the self without distraction, without the crutches of other people.