Perhaps we invented gods so that we could put blame on them.
I might have lived most happily on my island, but who, accustomed to the fullness of human speech, can be content with caws and chirps and screeches, and the barking of seals, and the moan of the wind?
Grief past weeping. I am hollow, I am a shell. To each of us fate sends the right disease. Mine a disease that eats me out from inside.
He is not a rubbish person. ... There are no rubbish people. We are all people together.
I will leave behind my terraces and walls. They will be enough. They will be more than enough.
Nothing is forgotten. Nothing I have forgotten is worth remembering.
The heart is the seat of a faculty, sympathy, that allows us to share at times the being of another.
I say – what I mean. I am an old woman. I do not have the time any longer to say things I do not mean.
To be alive is to be a living soul.
Ugliness: what is it but the soul showing through the flesh?
Why they chose to cast me away I do not know. But those whom we have abused we customarily grow to hate and wish never to lay eyes on again.