I love Toronto, It's the best city.
Down in the bottom of my childhood my father stands laughing.
Memory, that library of the soul from which I will draw knowledge and experience for the rest of my life.
[On her mother:] My relationship with her is close, painful, and skaky, and I always have to keep searching for a sign of love. Everything I do, I do to please her, to make her smile, to ward off her fury. This work is extremely exhausting.
I fear the place I have in the memory of others. They remind me of things I myself have forgot.
my childhood grew thin and flat, paperlike. It was tired and threadbare, and in low moments it didn't look like it would last until I was grown up.
Childhood is long and narrow like a coffin, and you can't get out of it on your own.
Dissensions, like small streams, are first begun, Scarce seen they rise, but gather as they run: So lines that from their parallel decline, More they proceed the more they still disjoin.
My whole art is based on escaping life and reality, which might not the best tendency to have when you're trying to be a good person in general. But people can escape into my world easily - artists are supposed to create a keyhole that people can look into.
Keep on pushing the boundaries and reaching for higher heights.
I can only see my limitations. That's just who I am.