Life is only lived full-time by women with children.

Banality is sometimes striking.

Alcohol doesn't console, it doesn't fill up anyone's psychological gaps, all it replaces is the lack of God.

I see journalists as the manual workers, the laborers of the word. Journalism can only be literature when it is passionate.

The solitude of writing is a solitude without which writing could not be produced, or would crumble, drained bloodless by the search for something else to write.

The woman is the home. That's where she used to be, and that's where she still is. You might ask me, What if a man tries to be part of the home -- will the woman let him? I answer yes. Because the he becomes one of the children.

All that remains of that minute is time in all its purity, bone-white time.