One of life's minor satisfactions is forgetting.

Art is the highest expression of the human spirit.

And I’m drawn to failure. I often write about it, and I’m sympathetic with it, I think, because I feel I’m contending with it constantly in my own life.

In a family, what isn't spoken is what you listen for. But the noise of a family is to drown it out.

As a farm girl, even when I was quite young, I had my 'farm chores' - but I had time also to be alone, to explore the fields, woods and creek side. And to read.

On the elusive gift of blending austerity of craft with elasticity of allure.

Ambitious, absorbing, and poignantly moving.