“Because of the mythical lothario conjured up in Nin‘s journals, I‘ve always fantasized about having an affair with Henry Miller, horn dog Henry Miller, who can‘t keep his hands off me, who will back me over a couch and go at me, who will fuck me so I stay fucked.”
“Anytime a woman documents the indignities of withstanding a misogynistic world, there are a dozen bench-warmers at the ready to charge her with wallowing, with perpetuating a cycle or psychology of victimhood, with the cynical glamorization of her own suffering. In short, of making a scene. Of being pathetic. Haven‘t we gone far enough? Why can‘t we just shut the fuck up? It‘s all more silencing.”