A writer is a reader who is moved to emulation.
Satin and lace and brown velvet and the faint odor of violets. That was all which was left to him of his love.
Happiness is the light on the water. The water is cold and dark and deep.
My father represented authority, which meant—to me—that he could not also represent understanding.
The reason life is so strange is that so often people have no choice.
My younger daughter told me recently that when she was a child she thought the typewriter was a toy that I went into my room and closed the door and played with.