I Have No Brakes On...analysis Is For

Sometimes I Think Of Paris Not As A City But As A Home.

I Am A Failure As A Writer. The Publishers Won't Publish Me, The Bookshops Won't Carry My Books, The Critics Won't Write About Me. I Am Excluded From All Anthologies, And Completely Ignored.

I Will Always Be The Virgin-prostitute, The Perverse Angel, The Two-faced Sinister And Saintly Woman.

To Withhold From Living Is To Die ... The More You Give Of Yourself To Life The More Life Nourishes You.

Compassion For Our Parents Is The True Sign Of Maturity.