When you wept it was just over yourself and not because of the marvelous impossibility of reaching her through the difference that separates you.

You are what you are and that fascinates me.

It’s not that you have to achieve anything, it’s that you have to get away from where you are.

Their voices reach out into the empty yard, plunge deep into the hills, go right through the heart.

It's only women who are not really quite women at all, frivolous women who have no idea, who neglect repairs.

I'm still there, watching those possessed children, as far away from the mystery now as I was then. I've never written, though I thought I wrote, never loved, though I thought I loved, never done anything but wait outside the closed door.

I know it's not clothes that make women beautiful or otherwise, nor beauty care, nor expensive creams, nor the distinction of costliness of their finery. I know the problem lies elsewhere. I don't know where. I only know it isn't where women think.