Had I been blessed with even limited access to my own mind there would have been no reason to write.
Joan DidionNew York is full of people . . . with a feeling for the tangential adventure, the risky adventure, the interlude that's not likely to end in any double-ring ceremony.
Joan DidionThe impulse to write things down is a peculiarly compulsive one, inexplicable to those who do not share it
Joan DidionYou have your wonderful memories," people said later, as if memories were solace. Memories are not. Memories are by definition of times past, things gone. Memories are the Westlake uniforms in the closet, the faded and cracked photographs, the invitations to the weddings of the people who are no longer married, the mass cards from the funerals of the people whose faces you no longer remember. Memories are what you no longer want to remember.
Joan Didion