Telling a story of illness, one pulls a thread through a narrow opening flanked on one side by shame and the other by trivia.

Telling a story of illness, one pulls a thread through a narrow opening flanked on one side by shame and the other by trivia.

I think artists can go to a level of vision that can often save us from a situation which seems to have no solution whatsoever.

... This is the paradox of vision: Sharp perception softens our existence in the world.

But still, the other voice, the intuitive, returns, like grass forcing its way through concrete.

Just as the slave master required the slaves to imitate the image he had of them, so women, who live in a relatively powerless position, politically and economically, feel obliged by a kind of implicit force to live up to culture's image of what is female.

War starts in the mind, not in the body.