There Are Women Succeeding Beyond Their Wildest

The Lesson You've Got To Learn Is The Someday You'll Someday Stagger To, Blinking In Cold Light, All Tears Shed, Ready To Poke Your Bovine Head In The Yoke They've Shaped. Everyone Learns This. Born, Everyone Breathes, Pays Tax, Plants Dead And Hurts Galore. There's Grief Enough For Each. My Mother Learned By Moving Man To Man, Outlived Them All. The Parched Earth's Bare (once She Leaves It) Of Any Who Watched The Instants I Trod It. Other Than Myself, Of Course. I've Made A Study Of Bearing And Forbearance. Everyone Does, It Turns Out, And Note Those Faces Passing By: Not One's A God.

Ninety Percent Of What's Wrong With You Could Be Cured With A Hot Bath, Says God From The Bowels Of The Subway. But We Want Magic, To Win The Lottery We Never Bought A Ticket For.

The Shreiking Fight Or The Out-of-character Insult Endures Forever, While The Daily Sweetness Dissolves Like Sugar In Water.

I Get About Five Memoirs Per Week In My Mailbox, And Few Of Them Inspire Anything But A Desire To Pick Up The Channel Changer.

The Words And Sentences You Take Into Your Body From Books Are No Less Sacred And Healing Than Communion. Surely At Least One Such Person Lives In Your Zip Code.