Few People, Very Few, Have A Treasure,

I Would ... Go Up To The Mailbox And Sit In The Grass, Waiting. ... Till It Came To Me One Day There Were Women Doing This With Their Lives, All Over. There Were Women Just Waiting And Waiting By Mailboxes For One Letter Or Another. I Imagined Me Making This Journey Day After Day And Year After Year, And My Hair Starting To Go Gray, And I Thought, I Was Never Made To Go On Like That. ... If There Were Woman All Through Life Waiting, And Women Busy And Not Waiting, I Knew Which I Had To Be.

The Conversation Of Kisses. Subtle, Engrossing, Fearless, Transforming.

In Twenty Years I've Never Had A Day When I Didn't Have To Think About Someone Else's Needs. And This Means The Writing Has To Be Fitted Around It.

The Thing Is To Be Happy, No Matter What. Just Try That. You Can. It Gets To Be Easier And Easier. It's Nothing To Do With Circumstances. You Wouldn't Believe How Good It Is. Accept Everything And Then Tragedy Disappears. Or Tragedy Lightens, Anyway, You're Just There, Going Along Easy In The World.

As A Matter Of Fact She Does Not Know To This Day If Those Words Were Spoken, Or If He Only Caught Her, Wound His Arms Around Her, Held Her So Tightly, With Such Continual, Changing Pressures That It Seemed More Than Two Arms Were Needed, That She Was Surrounded By Him, His Body Strong And Light, Demanding And Renouncing All At Once, As If He Was Telling Her She Was Wrong To Give Up On Him, Everything Was Possible, But Then Again That She Was Not Wrong, He Meant To Stam Himself On Her And Go.