Remember the great adversity of art or anything else is a hurried life.

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.

Remember the great adversity of art or anything else is a hurried life.

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

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.

The heart never forgets, never gives up, the territory marked off for those who came before.