Do I like to write? Why? About what? Will I give up and say, "Living and feeding a man's insatiable guts and begetting children occupies my whole life. Don't have time to write"?

I’d discovered, after a lot of extreme apprehension about what spoons to use, that if you do something incorrect at table with a certain arrogance, as if you knew perfectly well you were doing it properly, you can get away with it and nobody will think you are bad-mannered or poorly brought up. They will think you are original and very witty.

If they substituted the word 'Lust' for 'Love' in the popular songs it would come nearer the truth.

I liked looking on at other people in crucial situations. If there was a road accident or a street fight or a baby pickled in a laboratory jar for me to look at, I'd stop and look so hard I never forgot it.

And I a smiling woman. I am only thirty. And like the cat I have nine times to die.

I knew you'd decide to be all right again.

Even amidst fierce flames the golden lotus can be planted.