I'm always looking for something new and interesting to say. And it can't be something I'm directly experiencing.

I was tired of men. Hanging in doorways, standing too close, men who made you love them then changed their minds.

I thought clay must feel happy in the good potter's hand.

I'm always looking for something new and interesting to say. And it can't be something I'm directly experiencing.

His voice was cloves and nightingales, it took us to spice markets in the Celebs, we drifted with him on a houseboat beyond the Coral Sea. We were like cobras following a reed flute.

I've been depressed many times in my life. But under it all I'm an optimist.

You were my home, Mother. I had no home but you