It's a shame for women's history to be all about men--first boys, then other boys, then men men men. It reminds me of the way our school history textbooks were all about wars and elections, one war after another, with the dull periods of peace skimmed over whenever they occurred. (Our teachers deplored this and added extra units about social history and protest movements, but that was still the message of the books.)

My guess is that he remembers some of me, some of us together, and the rest rolled off him like topsoil in a flash flood.

I believe in walking out of a museum before the paintings you've seen begin to run together. How else can you carry anything away with you in your mind's eye?

Sometimes people damage paintings or sculpture because they love it. They throw their arms around a statue in a fit of hysterical passion and it falls over.

There is nothing harder, at moments, than talking to someone who has all the power of silence.

We Gypsies know that where Jews are killed, Gypsies are always murthered too. And then a lot of other people, usually.

He can't really love anyone, you know, and in the end such people are always alone, no matter how much other people once loved them.