The unique must be fulfilled.
All things I do are in every woman. Every woman is Medea. Every woman is Jocasta. There comes a time when a woman is a mother to her husband. Clytemnestra is every woman when she kills.
In the end, it all comes down to the art of breathing.
There is fatigue so great that the body cries, even in its sleep.
The body is a sacred garment.
I'm asked so often whether I believe in life after death. I do believe in the sanctity of life, the continuity of life and of energy. I know the anonymity of death has no appeal for me. It is the now that I must face and want to face.