All my writing has been an effort to sort out the paradoxes of my life.

Sexuality is the great field of battle between biology and society.

To say something nice about themselves, this is the hardest thing in the world for people to do.

Blaming mother is just a negative way of clinging to her still.

I'm sure it's why I'm such an odd duck in my feminist generation, because I've always been equally fair to men.

After sex, men fear too much intimacy; they want to separate again. Women want to talk, to continue the merging, melting fusion into one. Postcoital conversations keep the woman's power alive. Through unconscious severance, by falling asleep, the man regains his self.

The older I get...the more of my mother I see in myself.