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I could feel the tears brimming and sloshing in me like water in a glass that is unsteady and too full.

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Feel oddly barren. My sickness is when words draw in their horns and the physical world refuses to be ordered, recreated, arranged and selected. I am ...more

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I couldn't stand the idea of a woman having to have a single pure life and a man being able to have a double life, one pure and one not.

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I buried my head under the darkness of the pillow and pretended it was night. I couldn't see the point of getting up. I had nothing to look forward to...more

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We’ll take up where we left off, Esther’, she had said, with her sweet martyr’s smile. ‘We’ll act as if all this were a bad dream.’ A bad dream. To th...more

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I knew I should be grateful to Mrs Guinea, only I couldn't feel a thing. If Mrs Guinea had given me a ticket to Europe, or a round-the-world cruise, i...more

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Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one’s head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and...more

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My mother said the cure for thinking too much about yourself was helping somebody who was worse off than you.

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It was comforting to know I had fallen and could fall no farther.

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When they asked me what I wanted to be I said I didn't know.

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Not easy to state the change you made.If I'm alive now, I was dead,Though, like a stone, unbothered by it.

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I need more than anything right now what is, of course, most impossible, someone to love me, to be with me at night when I wake up in shuddering horro...more

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Writing, then, was a substitute for myself: if you don't love me, love my writing & love me for my writing. It is also much more: a way of ordering an...more

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Some things are hard to write about. After something happens to you, you go to write it down, and either you over dramatize it, or underplay it, exagg...more

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So much working, reading, thinking, living to do! A lifetime is not long enough.