I Believe This Was [margaret Thatcher] Estimate

You Can Have A Silence Full Of Words. A Lute Retains, In Its Bowl, The Notes It Has Played. The Viol, In Its Strings, Holds A Concord. A Shriveled Petal Can Hold Its Scent, A Prayer Can Rattle With Curses; An Empty House, When The Owners Have Gone Out, Can Still Be Loud With Ghosts.

Beneath Every History, Another History.

[h]ope Takes You By The Throat Like A Stranger, It Makes Your Heart Leap.

I Do Myself Think That History Is A Set Of Skills Rather Than A Narrative.

As A Writer, You Owe It To Yourself Not To Get Stuck In A Rut Of Looking At The World In A Certain Way.