It's a bad word, 'belong.' Especially when you put it with somebody you love ... You can't own a human being.

Birth, life, and death― each took place on the hidden side of a leaf.

I always start out with an idea, even a boring idea, that becomes a question I don't have answers to.

Each member of the family in his own cell of consciousness, each making his own patchwork quilt of reality - collecting fragments of experience here, pieces of information there. From the tiny impressions gleaned from one another, they created a sense of belonging and tried to make do with the way they found each other.

The best art is political and you ought to be able to make it unquestionably political and irrevocably beautiful at the same time.

Sometimes what I write on the page frightens me, so I feel free when I write, but I don't feel safe.

Along with the idea of romantic love, she was introduced to another - physical beauty. Probably the most destructive ideas in the history of human thought. Both originated in envy, thrived in insecurity, and ended in disillusion.