One Writes In Order To Feel.

What Would Happen If One Woman Told The Truth About Her Life? The World Would Split Open.

Women In Drudgery Knew They Must Be One Of Four: Whores, Artists, Saints, And Wives. There Are Composite Lives That Women Always Live

I Remember Mother Saying : Inventors Are Like Poets, A Trashy Lot

Dogma And Shrinking From The External World Are At One Limit Of The Range Of Belief. At The Other Are Science And Poetry And, Indeed, Reality.

In Time Of Crisis, We Summon Up Our Strength. Then, If We Are Lucky, We Are Able To Call Every Resource, Every Forgotten Image That Can Leap To Our Quickening, Every Memory That Can Make Us Know Our Power. And This Luck Is More Than It Seems To Be: It Depends On The Long Preparation Of The Self To Be Used.