Courage is the only Magic worth having.

Souls have neither Sex nor Colour.

Friends love misery... our misery is what endears us to our friends.

Throughout much of history, women writers have capitulated to male standards, and have paid too much heed to what Virginia Woolf calls "the angel in the house." She is that little ghost who sits on one's shoulder while one writes and whispers, "Be nice, don't say anything that will embarrass the family, don't say anything your man will disapprove of ..." [ellipsis in original] The "angel in the house" castrates one's creativity because it deprives one of essential honesty, and many women writers have yet to win the freedom to be honest with themselves.

As a seasoned insomniac, I knew sometimes the way to beat sleeplessness was to outwit it: to pretend you didn't care about sleeping. Then sometimes sleep became piqued, like a rejected lover, and crept up to try to seduce you.

The future is merely a shadow which blocks out the joys of the present and emphasizes the miseries of the past.

Despite all the cynical things writers have said about writing for money, the truth is we write for love. That is why it is so easy to exploit us.