Usually My Starting Point Is Something That

Language Is An Archaeological Vehicle... The Language We Speak Is A Whole Palimpsest Of Human Effort And History.

Time's Arrow, We Are Told, Is A One-way Thing. . . Memory's Arrow, Like The Needle Of A Compass Too Close To A Lodestone, Spins In All Directions.

My Generation Was Somewhat Between Things, Neither Free Nor Much Supported By Whatever Held Us In.

Who Is Alice?" Asked Mother. "alice Is Somebody That Nobody Can See," Said Frances. "and That Is Why She Does Not Have A Birthday. So I Am Singing Happy Thursday To Her." - Frances The Badger

There Is A Tiger In My Room,' Said Frances. 'did He Bite You?' Said Father. 'no,' Said Frances. 'did He Scratch You?' Said Mother. 'no,' Said Frances. 'then He Is A Friendly Tiger,' Said Father. 'he Will Not Hurt You. Go Back To Sleep.