I Am Not A Fate Worse Than

From Fried Witchetty Grubs To Gold-plated Turnips, When You're A Writer You Never Know What's Going To Appear On Your Plate Next. It Keeps A Woman Alert, It Does.

Women Do Desperately Need Models For Power Other Than The Maternal.

Bleeding Ulcers Run In My Family, We Give Them To Each Other.

They Stared At Her Curiously, And She Caught Snatches Of Conversation In Two Or Three Languages. It Wasn't Hard To Guess Their Content, And She Smiled A Bit Primly. Youth, It Appeared, Was Full Of Illusions As To How Much Sexual Energy Two People Might Have To Spare While Hiking Forty Or So Kilometers A Day, Concussed, Stunned, Diseased, On Poor Food And Little Sleep, Alternating Caring For A Wounded Man With Avoiding Becoming Dinner For Every Carnivore Within Range - And With A Coup To Plan For The End.

If You Can't Do What You Want, Do What You Can.