It's Hard Work Being A

Words Are Our Life. We Are Human Because We Use Language. So I Think We Are Less Human When We Use Less Language.

So This Is Where The Years Of Maturity Deliver Us - To This Needy, Selfish, Unwieldy Wish To Be Somebody Else's First And Primal Other.

Nothing She Did Or Said Was Quite What She Meant But Still Her Life Could Be Called A Monument Shaped In A Slant Of Available Light And Set To The Movement Of Possible Music

I Don't Think I Would Have Been A Writer If I Hadn't Been A Mother. I Wanted To Construct Something That Contained Some Of These Feelings That I Had, Some Of These Discoveries Or Revelations.

Open A Book This Minute And Start Reading. Don’t Move Until You’ve Reached Page Fifty. Until You’ve Buried Your Thoughts In Print. Cover Yourself With Words. Wash Yourself Away. Dissolve.