It's a pretty brutal process, having a baby.

In domestic life the woman's value is inherent, unquantifiable; at home she exchanges proven values for mythological ones. She "wants" to be at home, and because she is a woman she's allowed to want it. This desire is her mystique, it is both what enables her to domesticate herself and what disempowers her.

Divorce also entails the beginning of a supposition that that familial reality might have obstructed one's ability to perceive others.

How can there be so many mothers in the world but so little sense of what it might be to become one?

Parenthood, like death, is an event for which it is nearly impossible to be prepared. It brings you into a new relationship with the fact of your own existence, a relationship in which one may be rendered helpless.

People are least aware of others when demonstrating their own power over them.

As writers go, I have a skin of average thickness. I am pleased by a good review, disappointed by a bad. None of it penetrates far enough to influence the thing I write next.