A Winter Book

All men have parties and are pals who never let each other down. A pal can say terrible things which are forgotten the next day. A pal never forgives, he just forgets, and a woman forgives but never forgets. That's how it is. That's why women aren't allowed to have parties. Being forgiven is very unpleasant.

You can close your mind to things if something is important enough. It works very well. You make yourself very small, shut your eyes tight and say a big word over and over again until you’re safe.

if words lie face down there’s a chance they might change during the night; you may suddenly come to see them with a new eye, perhaps with a rapid flash of insight. It is conceivable.

Yes, I know; it's true that memory has an unfortunate habit of working backwards at night and knowing its way through everything without sparing the slightest detail - bad you were too much of a coward to do something, for instance; but you made a wrong choice, or were tactless or unfeeling or criminally unobservant - but of course no one but you has given a thought for years to these things which to you are calamities, shameful actions and irretrievably stupid statements! Isn't it unfair, when we're endowed with such sharp memories, that they only function in reverse?

It's a beautiful thought, to meet a writer only in her books.