Being An Old Maid Is Like Death

I Sat Staring Up At A Shelf In My Workroom From Which Thirty-one Books Identically Dressed In Neat Dark Green Leather Stared Back At Me With A Sort Of Cold Hostility Like Children Who Resent Their Parents. Don't Stare At Us Like That! They Said. Don't Blame Us If We Didn't Turn Out To Be The Perfection You Expected. We Didn't Ask To Be Brought Into The World.

[women] ... Is Nothin' But Little Girls In Long Skirts, And Their Hair Done Up.

A Placated Bully Is A Hand-fed Bully.

Does One Eat Peanuts At A Ball Game?' 'it Ain't Hardly Legal If You Don't.

I Think In Order To Write Really Well And Convincingly, One Must Be Somewhat Poisoned By Emotion, Dislike, Displeasure, Resentment, Fault-finding, Imagination, Passionate Remonstrance, A Sense Of Injustice-they All Make Fine Fuel.