All art, in spite of the struggles of some critics to prove otherwise, is based on emotion and projects emotion.

I hope that one or two immortal lyrics will come out of all this tumbling around.

Women have no wilderness in them They are provident instead Content in the tight hot cell of their hearts To eat dusty bread.

Stupidity always accompanies evil. Or evil, stupidity.

...in a time lacking in truth and certainty and filled with anguish and despair, no woman should be shamefaced in attempting to give back to the world, through her work, a portion of its lost heart.

Perhaps this very instant is your time.

But childhood prolonged, cannot remain a fairyland. It becomes a hell.