When I'm Writing, I Think About The

I Had Been A Girl Of Whom Certain Things Were Expected, None Of Them Too Bad: A Career As A Nurse, For Example; A Sense Of Duty To My Parents; Obedience To The Law And Worship Of Convention. But In One Year Of Being Away From Home, That Girl Had Gone Out Of Existence.

The Strange Thing About My Life Is That I Came To America At About The Time When Racial Attitudes Were Changing. This Was A Big Help To Me. Also, The People Who Were Most Cruel To Me When I First Came To America Were Black Americans. They Made Absolute Fun Of The Way I Talked, The Way I Dressed. I Couldn't Dance. The People Who Were Most Kind And Loving To Me Were White People. So What Can One Make Of That? Perhaps It Was A Coincidence That All The People Who Found Me Strange Were Black And All The People Who Didn't Were White.

A Professional Writer Is A Joke. You Write Because You Can't Do Anything Else, And Then You Have Another Job.

This Naming Of Things Is So Crucial To Possession - A Spiritual Padlock With The Key Thrown Irretrievably Away - That It Is A Murder, An Erasing, And It Is Not Surprising That When People Have Felt Themselves Prey To It (conquest), Among Their First Acts Of Liberation Is To Change Their Names.

Habit Gives Endurance, And Fatigue Is The Best Night Cap.