“Very quickly, very suddenly, words fell through my mind. They landed on the floor of my thoughts, and in there, down there, I started to pick the words up. They were excerpts of truth gathered from inside me.”

“I find I very rarely live up to my words. And since you know me primarily through my words, there are oh so many ways I can disappoint.”

“Terror starts picking at the seams of my mind, throwing hateful words like rapture and holocaust at me.”

“He looked up at me without saying a word. I tried to hold it together but I could feel myself breaking as I fell to the floor, my face in my hands – tears flowing down my cheeks. For the first time in a while I felt like I was truly losing a hold of myself.”

“She unwrapped the blanket when she came in my door. You were inside it. She set you down on the floor and you started ranging around, picking things up, pulling my cat's tail—you screamed like a banshee when the cat scratched you, so I asked your mother if you were part banshee. She didn't laugh.”

“Susan Griffin describes it as a time when "there is no intrinsic authority to my words." "I...clean off my desk. I make telephone calls. I know I am avoiding the typewriter. I know that in my mind, where there might be words, there is simply a blankness. I may try to write and then my words bore me." But when the time is right, the waiting will have been worth it. "Because each time I write, each time the authentic words break through, I am changed. The older order that I was collapses and dies. I lose control. I do not know exactly what words will appear on the page. I follow language. I follow the sound of the words, and I am surprised and transformed by what I record." Excerpt from "Thoughts on Writing: A Diary," in The Writer on her Work.”