Suppose that a person writes what she must. That is only the first step of becoming a writer. The work must survive the moment of creation. It must get out to an audience. She or he must dare to show the work. She must risk ridicule, misunderstanding, scandal, condemnation, & what's often worse, none of the above: silence. No attention at all.

I wrote to make sense out of all the contradictions I experienced and to deal with the pain and loss I was undergoing.

I communicate much better with cats, usually. I know them and their body language - as my own cats know mine very well. Cats are adept at reading subtle signals.

Too much self-regard has never struck me as dignified: trying to twist over my shoulder to view my own behind.

The will to be totally rational is the will to be made out of glass and steel: and to use others as if they were glass and steel.

Memory in Greek mythology is the mother of the muses, and it is so for me. Both personal and societal memory move me strongly, and that is one of the sources of my writing.

I don't even remember what Mother and I quarreled about: it is a continual quarrel that began when I reached puberty.