I say you hurt me. You say I scorned you. We say we care. It begins. The conversation begins.

In becoming archaeologists of the world of our mothers, we are trying to retrieve the female past and to invent a future.

Humor tells you where the trouble is.

The illusion of companionship sits waiting in the television set. We keep our televisions on more than we watch them – an average of more than seven hours a day. For background. For company.

The question arises as to whether it is possible not to live in the world of men and still to live in the world.

What is commonly called literary history is actually a record of choices.

What is haunting is that people fallen off the train threaten those who remain on board.

What we have in common is what keeps us apart.

Between sisters, often, the child’s cry never dies down. “Never leave me,” it says; “do not abandon me.”

Sometimes I feel like a sisterless child.