Some people are like that - closed - they can't learn from anyone. Us, for example, we can't learn anything, neither I from you nor you from me, nor from anyone, nor from anything, nor from what happens.

The outrage was on the scale of God. My younger brother was immortal and they hadn't noticed. Immortality had been concealed in my brother's body while he was alive, and we hadn't noticed that it dwelt there. Now my brother's body was dead, and immortality with it. ... And the error, the outrage, filled the whole universe.

I don't have general views about anything, except social injustice.

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

Drinking isn't necessarily the same as wanting to die. But you can't drink without thinking you're killing yourself.

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

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.