I talk about the gods, I am an atheist. But I am an artist too, and therefore a liar. Distrust everything I say. I am telling the truth.

The unread story is not a story; it is little black marks on wood pulp. The reader, reading it, makes it live: a live thing, a story.

The artist deals in what cannot be said in words. The artist whose medium is fiction does this in words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words.

Inventions have long since reached their limit, and I see no hope for further development.

We are volcanoes. When we women offer our experience as our truth, as human truth, all the maps change. There are new mountains.