As it has turned out, the whole relationship between men, women and children has tilted, to the disadvantage of women.

The desire for self-expression afflicts people when they feel there is something of themselves which is not getting through to the outside world.

You will find that women who are pregnant often don't want to be and women who aren't desperately envy those who are. Labour wards are always full of very punitive people.

Men are irrelevant. Women are happy or unhappy, fulfilled or unfulfilled, and it has nothing to do with men.

Writing is more than just the making of a series of comprehensible statements: it is the gathering in of connotations; the harvesting of them, like blackberries in a good season, ripe and heavy, snatched from among the thorns of logic.

Words are not simple things: they take unto themselves, as they have through time, power and meaning.

We shelter children for a time; we live side by side with men; and that is all. We owe them nothing, and are owed nothing. I think we owe our friends more, especially our female friends.