The Work Of The World Is Common

If Sex Is A War, I Am A Conscientious Objector: I Will Not Play.

Every Artist Creates With Open Eyes What She Sees In Her Dream.

Your Anger Was A Climate I Inhabited Like A Desert In A Dry Frigid Weather Of High Thin Air And Ivory Sun, Sand Dunes The Wind Lifted Into Stinging Clouds That Blinded And Choked Me Where The Only Ice Was In The Blood.

I Think Having A Great Range Of Experiences In My Life Had Helped Me As A Writer, Particularly A Writer Of Fiction. I Have Known A Great Many Different Sorts Of People In Different Situations, And I Have A Notion How Very Well Of Badly People Can Behave In Times Of Stress Or Danger Or Violence.

What A Richly Colored Strong Warm Coat Is Woven When Love Is The Warp And Work Is The Woof.