I like the dry-cleaners. I like the sense of refreshment and renewal. I like the way dirty old torn clothes are dumped, to be returned clean and wholesome in their slippery transparent cases. Better than confesssion any day. Here there is a true sense of rebirth, redemption, salvation.

Style is what's there when you look at someone's writing and you know that they wrote it and nobody else did.

Novelists... fashioning nets to sustain and support the reader as he falls helplessly through the chaos of his own existence.

A 'weakness,' I now realize, is nothing but a strength not properly developed.

There is probably an innate masochism in a lot of women that ends up disappointed if men don't ill-treat them.

No one should be allowed to give back the gift of life, unless they are very old and full of tears, when the body outlives the spirit, when they should be allowed to join the others who've already gone.

I was seduced by secrets, which are to true love as artificial sweetener is to sugar, calorie-free but in the long run carcinogenic, not the real thing, and only a peculiar aftertaste in the mouth to tell you so, to warn you.