At fifty the madwoman in the attic breaks loose, stomps down the stairs, and sets fire to the house. She won't be imprisoned anymore.

Few women see power as an end in itself. The point of power is the freedom to cultivate roses.

Women are the only exploited group in history to have been idealized into powerlessness.

Don't ye know that ev'ry Soul on Earth feels itself to be an Orphan?

It's hard to do fiction and nonfiction simultaneously.

All natural disasters are comforting because they reaffirm our impotence, in which, otherwise, we might stop believing. At times it is strangely sedative to know the extent of your own powerlessness.

Solitude is un-American.