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.

I knew I had done something awful. I had killed love, before I even knew the enormity of what love meant.

I have some women friends but I prefer men. Dont trust women. There is a built-in competition between women.

Writers, however mature and wise and eminent, are children at heart.

Writers really live in the mind and in hotels of the soul.

That is the mystery about writing: it comes out of afflictions, out of the gouged times, when the heart is cut open.

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.