I Have A Terrible Memory.

When I Was Growing Up, I Always Read Horror Books, While My Sister Read Romance Novels.

Delia Picked At The Raw Sores Of Her Conscience...drunk Or Sober, Delia Lived In The Small Town In Her Heart, Ignoring The World In Which All Her Love Had Turned To Grief.

I Did Not Begin With Craft, I Began With Strong Feelings And Worked Toward Craft.

Life Ain't The Movies.

For Years And Years, I Convinced Myself That I Was Unbreakable, An Animal With An Animal Strength Or Something Not Human At All. Me, I Told People, I Take Damage Like A Wall, A Brick Wall That Never Falls Down, Never Feels Anything, Never Flinches Or Remembers. I Am One Woman But I Carry In My Body All The Stories I Have Ever Been Told, Women I Have Known, Women Who Have Taken Damage Until They Tell Themselves They Can Feel No Pain At All.