“Don’t wait to be hunted to hide, that was always my motto.”

Then I went back into the house and wrote, It is midnight. The rain is beating on the windows. It was not midnight. It was not raining.

With all this darkness round me I feel less alone.

Art has nothing to do with clarity, does not dabble in the clear and does not make clear

People are bloody ignorant apes.

Better hope deferred than none.

All mankind is us, whether we like it or not.

Any fool can turn a blind eye but who knows what the ostrich sees in the sand.

To find a form that accommodates the mess, that is the task of the artist now.

Words and images run riot in my head, pursuing, flying, clashing, merging, endlessly. But beyond this tumult there is a great calm, and a great indifference, never really to be troubled by anything again.

There’s never an end for the sea.

My mistakes are my life.

There’s something dripping in my head. A heart, a heart in my head.

Words are the clothes thoughts wear.

I pause to record that I feel in extraordinary form. Delirium perhaps.

What are we doing here, that is the question.

I am still alive then. That may come in useful.

I’m a fighter. I believe in the eye-for-an-eye business. I’m no cheek turner. I got no respect for a man who won’t hit back. You kill my dog, you better hide your cat.

We live in a world where we have to hide to make love, while violence is practiced in broad daylight.

Sometimes the mask we wear is simply just a smile.

I’m interested in the things people try to hide.

For each of us as women, there is a dark place within, where hidden and growing our true spirit rises, beautiful and tough as chestnut stanchions against our nightmare of weakness.

Integrity gives you real freedom because you have nothing to fear since you have nothing to hide.

What makes the desert beautiful,’ said the little prince, ‘is that somewhere it hides a well.

Smiling is the best way to face every problem, to crush every fear, to hide every pain.