The story of my life is about back entrances, side doors, secret elevators and other ways of getting in and out of places so that people won't bother me.

Love is a romantic designation for a most ordinary biological process-or, shall we say, chemical-process ... a lot of nonsense is talked and written about it.

Why should you care for a woman like me? I'm always nervous or sick, or sad or too gay.

It is bitter to think of one's best years disappearing in this unpolished country.

I never met a man I could marry.

I'm tired and nervous and I'm in America. Here you don't know that you live.

There is no one who would have me - I can't cook.