Writing is so difficult that I feel that writers, having had their hell on earth, will escape all punishment hereafter.

It is very easy to forgive others their mistakes; it takes more grit and gumption to forgive them for having witnessed your own.

A broken bone can heal, but the wound a word opens can fester forever.

Knowledge of what you love somehow comes to you; you don’t have to read nor analyze nor study. If you love a thing enough, knowledge of it seeps into you, with particulars more real than any chart can furnish.

Sleeplessness is a desert without vegetation or inhabitants.

In my time and neighborhood (and in my soul) there was only one standard by which a woman measured success: did some man want her?

Some people are always thirsting for water from other people's wells.