When a woman makes the choice to marry, to have children; in one way her life begins but in another way it stops. You build a life of details. You become a mother, a wife and you stop and stay steady so that your children can move. And when they leave they take your life of details with them. And then you're expected move again only you don't remember what moves you because no-one has asked in so long. Not even yourself.

We're all getting lashed to the great wheel of uniformity.

I sometimes have the feeling you've been here a long time, more than one lifetime, and that you've dwelt in private places none of the rest of us has even dreamed about.

Analysis destroys wholes. Some things, magic things, are meant to stay whole. If you look at their pieces, they go away.

The old dreams were good dreams; they didn't work out but I'm glad I had them.

So here I am walking around with another person inside of me. Though I think I put it better the day we parted when I said there is a third person we have created from the two of us. And I am stalked now by that other entity.

An inherent kindness exists in the process of aging ... we are allowed to move along gradually.