It is the absence of facts that frightens people: the gap you open, into which they pour their fears, fantasies, desires.

A statute is written to entrap meaning, a poem to escape it.

He thinks, I remembered you, Thomas More, but you didn't remember me. You never even saw me coming.

She is very plain. What does Henry see in her?'" "He thinks she's stupid. He finds it restful.

History is a set of skills rather than a narrative.

It follows that if you are not a mother you are not a grandmother. Your life has become unpunctuated, whereas the lives of other women around you have these distinct phases.

The word 'however' is like an imp coiled beneath your chair. It induces ink to form words you have not yet seen, and lines to march across the page and overshoot the margin. There are no endings. If you think so you are deceived as to their nature. They are all beginnings. Here is one.