Books have always been living things to me. Some of my encounters with new authors have changed my life a little. When I have been perplexed, looking for something I could not define to myself, a certain book has turned up, approached me as a friend would. And between it's cover carried the questions and the answers I was looking for.

I'm maybe not so much an exception, maybe because I've lived so long that more is coming, more is there.

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

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.

Since suffering confers no rights on its victims, we who witness are the ones responsible for restoring these lost rights.

I believe we come to earth with sealed orders. I believe that only those who lack passion look down on purpose.

I had the advantage, that I know Swedish. So I had the Swedish book and I had a lot of English translations, and German translations, and I did everything to make the best English translation of August Strindberg's Miss Julie I could. And then, there I went. "Oh! I think she's thinking this, but I think she should say it!" And so on. It's wonderful to do that.