It didn't occur to me that my books would be widely read at all, and that enabled me to write anything I wanted to. And even once I realized that they were being read, I still wrote as if I were writing in secret. That's how one has to write anyway--in secret.

The greatest wisdom doesn't know itself. The richest plan is not to have one.

Every so often something shatters like ice and we are in the river of our existence. We are aware.

Things which do not grow and change are dead things.

There are people who are always, I think, going to remain people of the book, to use another author's title, but people of the book, who really must be around.

I stood there in the shadowed doorway thinking with my tears. Yes, tears can be thoughts, why not?

Here is the most telling fact: you wish to possess me.
 Here is another fact: I loved you and let you think you could.