I looked on my stomach and saw Frieda Rebecca, white as flour with the cream that covers new babies, funny little dark squiggles of hair plastered over her head, with big, dark-blue eyes.
My most resolute opponents believe that I am too visible, that I am a little too alive, that my name echoes too much in the texts which they nevertheless claim to be inaccessible.
I speak the truth not so much as I would, but as much as I dare, and I dare a little more as I grow older.
For my senior prom, my father finally said I could go – as long as I was home by 9 P.M.! That was around the time that most people were heading out. When I was little I was so mad at them all the time. ‘Why can’t I do this?’ ‘Why are there so many rules?’ But looking back now, my parents gave me the foundation to have so many choices in life.
If you were to make little fishes talk, they would talk like whales.
No notice is taken of a little evil, but when it increases it strikes the eye.
If we are to change our world view, images have to change. The artist now has a very important job to do. He’s not a little peripheral figure entertaining rich people, he’s really needed.
Most of us spend too much time on the last twenty-four hours and too little on the last six thousand years.
I like knowing that the further back one traces any lineage, the narrower the path grows, to the haunt of just a few shaggy ancestors, with luck on their side, little gizmos in their cells and a future storied with impulses and choices that will ultimately define them.
When I first encountered the name of the city of Stockholm, I little thought that I would ever visit it, never mind end up being welcomed to it as a guest of the Swedish Academy and the Nobel Foundation.