One form of loneliness is to have a memory and no one to share it with.
Every reading is a misreading.
There is no neutrality. There is only greater or lesser awareness of one’s bias.
The literature of women’s lives is a tradition of escapees, women who have lived to tell the tale.
I believe we need literature, which, by allowing us to experience more fully, to imagine more fully, enables us to live more freely.
Perhaps that is what love is – the momentary or prolonged refusal to think of another person in terms of power.