I was a new person then, I knew things I had not known before, I knew things that you can know only if you have been through what I had just been through.

My writing has always been met with derision or dismissal.

I've never gotten used to winter and never will.

I'm always surprised to hear or read my work described, "In angry tones, she says." No! In truthful tones! Does truth have a tone? I don't know.

I would never never read a work of fiction and want to know about the person's life.

I understood that I was inventing myself, and that I was doing this more in the way of a painter than in the way of a scientist. I could not count on precision or calculation; I could only count on intuition.

Everything I do is because of writing. If I go for a walk, it's because I'm thinking of writing. I go look at flowers, I go look at the garden, I go look at a museum, but it's all coming back to writing.