I Am Becoming More Radical With Age.

Yet Not For A Single Moment Did I Have Any Doubts About My Own Integrity And Honour As A Woman. I Knew That My Profession Had Been Invented By Men, And That Men Were In Control Of Both Our Worlds, The One On Earth, And The One In Heaven. That Men Force Women To Sell Their Bodies At A Price, And That The Lowest Paid Body Is That Of A Wife. All Women Are Prostitutes Of One Kind Or Another.

Truth Is Relative, And There Is Always Something Missing In Truth That Prevents It From Being Perfect.

Fearing Servility, People Become Servile.

When My Second Husband Shouted, 'me Or Your Writing!' I Replied, 'my Writing.' We Separated.

Memory Is Never Complete. There Are Always Parts Of It That Time Has Amputated. Writing Is A Way Of Retrieving Them, Of Bringing The Missing Parts Back To It, Of Making It More Holistic.