The truth is that personality inevitably bleeds into all forms of our intellectual life. We all extrapolate from our own lives in order to understand the world.

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

Dreams are stories made by and for the dreamer, and each dreamer has his own folds to open and knots to untie.

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

I've always thought of wholeness and integration as necessary myths. We're gragmented beings who cement ourselves together, but there are always cracks. Living with the cracks is part of being, well, reasonably healthy.

Correlation is not cause, it is just a 'music of chance'.

Like countless first-year medical students, immersed in the symptoms of one disease after another, I am alert to the tingles and pangs, the throbs and quivers of my mortal body, each one of which is potentially a sign of the end.