That was the moment he got the idea he possessed me in a certain way, and that was the moment I grew tired of him.

There's a difference between bravery and rash stupidity.

I don't feel I'm angry. I feel as though I'm describing something true. If I had stabbed my husband, I could understand being called "angry." If I had an affair with my husband's best friend and written about that experience, I could see the anger. But I'm not doing that.

...yet a memory cannot be trusted, for so much of the experience of the past is determined by the experience of the present.

But you know, where did the Brontes go to college? Where did George Eliot go to college? Where did Thomas Paine or Thomas Jefferson or George Washington go? Did George Washington go to college? This idea which we now have that people ought to have these credentials is really ridiculous. Where did Homer go to college?

I write a lot in my head. The revision goes on internally. It's not spontaneous and it doesn't have a schedule.

I know that the fantastic amount of profit that people want to make on anything is damaging. And that none of us seem able to resist it.