In talking about the past, we lie with every breath we draw.
I had inadvertently walked through a door that I shouldn’t have gone through and couldn’t get back to the place I hadn’t meant to leave.
My father represented authority, which meant—to me—that he could not also represent understanding.
Who knows what oversensitive is, considering all there is to be sensitive to.
Happiness is the light on the water. The water is cold and dark and deep.
If I had had to write only about imaginary people, I would have had to close up my typewriter. I wrote about my life in less and less disguise as I grew older, and finally with no disguise - except the disguise we create for ourselves, which is self-deception.