Vanity is becoming a nuisance, I can see why women give it up, eventually. But I’m not ready for that yet.
I’m not sure which is worse: intense feeling, or the absence of it.
We understand more than we know.
I am certain that a Sewing Machine would relieve as much human suffering as a hundred Lunatic Asylums, and possibly a good deal more.
The answers you get from literature depend on the questions you pose.
I did not know how to paint or even what to paint, but I knew I had to begin.
You can wet the rim of a glass and run your finger around the rim and it will make a sound. This is what I feel like: this sound of glass. I feel like the word shatter. I want to be with someone.
What am I living for and what am I dying for are the same question.
I was sand, I was snow – written on, rewritten, smoothed over.
Where do the words go when we have said them?
Truly amazing, what people can get used to, as long as there are a few compensations.
The true story is vicious and multiple and untrue after all. Why do you need it? Don’t ever ask for the true story.
And she finds it difficult to believe – that a person would love her even when she isn’t trying. Trying to figure out what other people need, trying to be worthy.
Beginnings are sudden, but also insidious. They creep up on you sideways, they keep to the shadows, they lurk unrecognized. Then, later, they spring.
But who can remember pain, once it’s over? All that remains of it is a shadow, not in the mind even, in the flesh. Pain marks you, but too deep to see. Out of sight, out of mind.
Ignoring isn’t the same as ignorance, you have to work at it.
Stupidity is the same as evil if you judge by the results.
Which of us can resist the temptation of being thought indispensable?
You think I’m not a goddess? Try me. This is a torch song. Touch me and you’ll burn.
You’re never going to kill storytelling, because it’s built into the human plan. We come with it.