Frigidity is desire imagined by a woman who doesnt desire the man offering himself to her. Its the desire of a woman for a man who hasnt yet come to her, whom she doesnt yet know. Shes faithful to this stranger even before she belongs to him. Frigidity is the non-desire for whatever is not him.

When it's in a book I don't think it'll hurt any more ...exist any more. One of the things writing does is wipe things out. Replace them.

The words emerge from her body without her realizing it, as if she were being visited by the memory of a language long forsaken.

Stormy skies, says Ernesto. He grieved for them. Summer rain. Childhood.

Our mothers always remain the strangest, craziest people we've ever met.

I believe that always, or almost always, in all childhoods and in all the lives that follow them, the mother represents madness. Our mothers always remain the strangest, craziest people we've ever met.

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