I am suspicious of guilt in myself and in other people; it is usually a way of not thinking, or of announcing one's own fine sensibilities the better to be rid of them fast.

The past, with its pleasures, its rewards, its foolishness, its punishments, is there for each of us forever, and it should be.

My father was often angry when I was most like him.

I cannot and will not cut my conscience to fit this year's fashions.

A room of one's own isn't nearly enough. A house, or, best, an island of one's own.

Advances are made by those with at least a touch of irrational confidence in what they can do.

If I had to give young writers advice, I would say don't listen to writers talking about writing or themselves.