Time is not a line but a dimension, like the dimensions of space. If you can bend space you can bend time also, and if you knew enough and could move faster than light you could travel backwards in time and exist in two places at once.

And yes, I know it's you; and that is what we will come to, sooner or later, when it's even darker than it is now, when the snow is colder, when it's darkest and coldest and candles are no longer any use to us and the visibility is zero: yes. It's still you. It's still you.

If you're a woman writer, sometime, somewhere, you will be asked: Do you think of yourself as a writer first, or as a woman first? Look out. Whoever asks this hates and fears both writing and women.

There's something to be said for hunger: at least it lets you know you're still alive.

I'll make you mine, lovers said in old books. They never said, I'll make you me.

I grew up amongst biologists.

A voice is a human gift; it should be cherished and used, to utter fully human speech as possible. Powerlessness and silence go together.