All my writing is about the recognition that there is no single reality. But the beauty of it is that you nevertheless go on, walking towards utopia, which may not exist, on a bridge which might end before you reach the other side.

Life has no beginning, middle or end.

Every heart is the other heart. Every soul is the other soul. Every face is the other face. The individual is the one illusion.

There were also some cruel reviews by women, but the tone of the male reviewers, sometimes hysterical, was different. I have suffered, but I don't want to name names but there have been men who have seemed to want to destroy me or my writing, men I don't even know.

I don't believe there can be a poetic novel without political consciousness. I have a strong political conscience.

All creatures are flawed, but out of the flaw may come the universe.

I knew Anais Nin, who called me after I had been away for a few years. She was seeking help because at that time no one would give her a decent review. She was made fun of.