I tore myself away from the safe comfort of certainties through my love for truth - and truth rewarded me.

The torment that so many young women know, bound hand and foot by love and motherhood, without having forgotten their former dreams.

Ah, if only there were two of me, she thought, one who spoke and the other who listened, one who lived and one who watched, how I would love myself! I would envy no one.

You can't define the future. And in my opinion, you can't define the avant-garde.

My worst mistake has been not grasping that time goes by. It was going by and there I was, set in the attitude of the ideal wife of an ideal husband. Instead of bringing our sexual relationship to life again I brooded happily over memories of our former nights together.

Cooking is revolution and creation.

‎A day in which I don't write leaves a taste of ashes.