If only we could accept that there is no difference between us where human values are concerned. Whatever sex.

The void Papa's death left in me became a kind of cavity, into which later experiences were to be laid.

it is only in statistics that people die by the millions. Each person dies individually, in his own predicament.

The fear inside of loneliness: That only what others have is real.

I think of all the choices I never knew. And those I let be made for me - to please, from fear, for love. Where did they disappear to, those choices that I never made? They are all part of who I am. They are the legacy I leave behind, they are the finished portrait of myself I cannot change.

What I have always loved most in men is imperfection.

I consider myself a realist who wants to stand up for women's voices, not when they try to be the same, but when they stand up for who we are and what we see and how important it is that our voice is heard.