Small Things Amuse Small Minds.

How Boring These Emotions Are That We're Caught In And Can't Get Free Of, No Matter How Much We Want To.

My Major Aim Was To Shape A Book Which Would Make Its Own Comment, A Wordless Statement: To Talk Through The Way It Was Shaped.

I Woke Up One Morning, And I Couldn't Move My Arm. It Was The Oddest Thing, The Paralysis. I Called Up A Friend And Said, "i Think I've Had A Stroke," And, In Fact, That's What My Doctor Told Me. It Wasn't Terrible, But It Was Enough To Scare Me. Now I Think About Death All The Time. I Have My Death Arm, My Right Arm.

Writers, And Particularly Female Writers, Have To Fight For The Conditions They Need To Work.

For She Was Of That Generation Who, Having Found Nothing In Religion, Had Formed Themselves Through Literature.