Nothing She Did Or Said Was Quite

Anyone's Childhood Can Be An Act Of Disablement If Rehearsed And Replayed And Squinted At In A Certain Light. . .

The Scolding Voice Is Her Own, So Abrasive And Quick, Yet So Powerless To Move Her.

The Larger Loneliness Of Our Lives Evolves From Our Unwillingness To Spend Ourselves, Stir Ourselves. We Are Always Damping Down Our Inner Weather, Permitting Ourselves The Comforts Of Postponement, Of Rehearsals

Bookish People, Who Are Often Maladroit People, Persist In Thinking They Can Master Any Subtlety So Long As It's Been Shaped Into Acceptable Expository Prose.

I Don't Think I Would Have Been A Writer If I Hadn't Been A Mother. I Wanted To Construct Something That Contained Some Of These Feelings That I Had, Some Of These Discoveries Or Revelations.