Fantasy Isn't Something You Run Out Of.

When I Stopped Seeing My Mother With The Eyes Of A Child, I Saw The Woman Who Helped Me Give Birth To Myself.

Blaming Mother Is Just A Negative Way Of Clinging To Her Still.

When Is Enough Enough? In Envy's Eyes, Enough Never Is. Somebody Else Always Has Something We Want.

All My Writing Has Been An Effort To Sort Out The Paradoxes Of My Life.

In A Baby's First Months, The Earliest Patterns Of Intimacy Or Distrust Are Forever Grooved Into His Soul.