Women can't travel light. We're in charge of the basic facts.
The words! I collected them in all shapes and sizes and hung them like bangles in my mind.
I don't suppose there's really any critic except posterity.
I get up and I have coffee and I speak to no man and I go to my desk.
It has always seemed to me that if you could talk about your work in fully-formed phrases, you wouldn't write it. The writing is the statement, you see, and it seems to me that the poem or the story or the novel you write is the kind of metaphor you cast on life.
But memory, after a time, dispenses its own emphasis, making a feuilleton of what we once thought most ponderable, laying its wreath on what we never thought to recall.