I can live without it all - love with its blood pump, sex with its messy hungers, men with their peacock strutting, their silly sexual baggage, their wet tongues in my ear.

Writers are always at the edge of the inferno, and the fire is licking at our toes. Luckily, this turns us on!

I don't cook. My mother didn't cook. My daughter doesn't cook.

It is the city of mirrors, the city of mirages, at once solid and liquid, at once air and stone.

Loving someone is a loss of freedom - but one doesn't think of it as loss because one gains so much else.

Men and women, women and men. It will never work.

art is not advocacy and advocacy is not art.