There is this assumption that much of what I write is about my life, and that simply is not true.

Time is not outside us, but inside. Only we live with past, present, and future, and the present is too brief to experience anyway; it is retained afterward and then it is either codified or it slips into amnesia.

Many writers over the centuries simply do not have the reputations they deserve because they were female, and that is an act of suppression.

There is no future without a past, because what is to be cannot be imagined except as a form of repetition.

There is no reason we should expect young children to enter the nocturnal darkness of sleep and dreams without help.

Our memory fragments don't have any coherence until they're imagined in words. Time is a property of language, of syntax, and tense.

Good books, written by men or women, are ones in which you lose consciousness of the person writing the sentences.