I know it's trash: just another story made up to scare wicked females and correct unruly children. But it's all I have. I know I need something else. Something better. Like a story that shows how brazen women can take a good man down. I can hum to that.

In Ohio seasons are theatrical. Each one enters like a prima donna, convinced its performance is the reason the world has people in it.

There is really nothing more to say - except why. But since why is difficult to handle, one must take refuge in how.

I'm not entangled in shaping my work according to other people's views of how I should have done it.

The enemy is not men. The enemy is the concept of patriarchy, the concept of patriarchy as the way to run the world or do things.

I don't think a female running a house is a problem, a broken family. It's perceived as one because of the notion that a head is a man.

The ability of writers to imagine what is not the self, to familiarize the strange and mystify the familiar, is the test of their power.