What distinguished my life from my brother's is that my mother didn't like me. When I became a woman, I seemed to repel her.

None of us seem to think that we should draw a line under what would be a satisfactory amount of wealth.

Who you are is a mystery no one can answer, not even you.

It's not that I'm a very good person. It's that I think I should at least look at the ways in which I am not a good person, the ways in which I so readily become the person who would not notice that the wonderful clothing I'm wearing someone is probably dying for.

I've come to see that I'm saying something that people generally do not want to hear.

If I describe a person's physical appearance in my writing, which I often do, especially in fiction, I never say someone is "black" or "white." I may describe the color of their skin - black eyes, beige skin, blue eyes, dark skin, etc. But I'm not talking about race.

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