As Writers We Must, From Our Very

I Think Writing Is, By Definition, An Optimistic Act.

On A Summer Night It Can Be Lovely To Sit Around Outside With Friends After Dinner And, Yes, Read Poetry To Each Other. Keats And Yeats Will Never Let You Down, But It's Differently Exciting To Read The Work Of Poets Who Are Still Walking Around Out There.

She Is, Above All Else, Tired; She Wants More Than Anything To Return To Her Bed And Her Book. The World, This World, Feels Suddenly Stunned And Stunted, Far From Everything.

These Days, Clarissa Believes, You Measure People First By Their Kindness And Their Capacity For Devotion. You Get Tired, Sometimes, Of Wit And Intellect; Everybody's Little Display Of Genius.

I Was Not Ladylike, Nor Was I Manly. I Was Something Else Altogether. There Were So Many Different Ways To Be Beautiful.