For Many Imaginative Writers, Working For The

[margaret Thatcher] Scorned And Despised Other Women, And Predicated Her Values Entirely On The Values Of Her Father, A Small Town Shopkeeper.

God Takes Out Your Heart Of Flesh, And Gives You A Heart Of Stone.

Insight Cannot Be Taken Back. You Cannot Return To The Moment You Were In Before.

The Word 'however' Is Like An Imp Coiled Beneath Your Chair. It Induces Ink To Form Words You Have Not Yet Seen, And Lines To March Across The Page And Overshoot The Margin. There Are No Endings. If You Think So You Are Deceived As To Their Nature. They Are All Beginnings. Here Is One.

I Am Sure That All Politicians Seek The Home Connection With The Voter. But [margaret Thatcher] Carried It To Extremes.