The mysteries of the female sex! We men can never hope to fathom your depths, but only try not to drown in them.

I had forgotten that time wasn't fixed like concrete but in fact was fluid as sand, or water. I had forgotten that even misery can end.

The danger of motherhood. you relive your early self, through the eyes of your mother.

I can't imagine a mental life, a spiritual existence, not inextricably bound up with language of a formal, mediated nature. Telling stories, choosing an appropriate language with which to tell the story: This seems to me quintessentially human, one of the great adventures of our species.

For obviously the advantage for most writers is that no one sees them. The writer is invisible, which confers power.

Her problem wasn't she was a dumb blonde, it was she wasn't a blonde and she wasn't dumb.

Running! If there's any activity happier, more exhilarating, more nourishing to the imagination, I can't think of what it might be.