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

Childhood, after all, is not an ending, but rather a state full of potent curiosity.

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.

Hope is like one of those orchids that grows around toxic waste: lovely in itself - and an assertion, if you like, of indefatigable good - but a sure sign that something nasty lies underneath.

We who were born were not witnesses to our birth: like death, it is something we are forever after trying to catch sight of.

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

I have absolutely no concept of work, except for university. But I like to talk to people a lot about their jobs.