This Is Why I Read Novels: So

We Are Too Kind, Too Willing--too Unwilling Too--reaching Out Blindly With A Grasping Hand But Not Knowing How To Ask For What We Don't Even Know We Want.

A Woman's Life Isn't Worth A Plateful Of Cabbage If She Hasn't Felt Life Stir Under Her Heart. Taking A Little One To Nurse, Watching Him Grow To Manhood, That's What Love Is.

Nothing She Did Or Said Was Quite What She Meant But Still Her Life Could Be Called A Monument Shaped In A Slant Of Available Light And Set To The Movement Of Possible Music

In One Day I Had Altered My Life; My Life, Therefore, Was Alterable. This Simple Axiom Did Not Call Out For Exegesis; No, It Entered My Bloodstream Directly, As Powerful As Heroin. I Could Feel It Pump And Surge, The Way It Brightened My Veins To A Kind Of Glass. I Had Wakened That Morning To Narrowness And Predestination And Now I Was Falling Asleep In The Storm Of My Own Free Will.

There Are Chapters In Every Life Which Are Seldom Read And Certainly Not Aloud.