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

The old story is true:Women have to be less emotional than men.

Depression is when you think there's nothing to be done. Fortunately I always think there's something to be done.

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

That is the strangeness of language: it crosses the boundaries of the body, is at once inside and outside, and it sometimes happens that we don't notice the threshold has been crossed.

Pain is always emotional. Fear and depression keep constant company with chronic hurting.

I remember thinking how easy it is to speak in clichés, to steal a line from pulp fiction and let it fall. We can only hover around the inexpressible with our words anyway, and there is comfort in saying what we have heard before.