My Three Husbands Were Afraid Of Me.

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

My Skin Is Soft, But My Heart Is Cruel, And My Bite Is Deadly.

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.

I Am Becoming More Radical With Age. I Have Noticed That Writers, When They Are Old, Become Milder. But For Me It Is The Opposite. Age Makes Me More Angry.

When We Live In A World That Is Very Unjust, You Have To Be A Dissident.