Having Stopped Expecting Truth, We

Books Go Out Into The World, Travel Mysteriously From Hand To Hand, And Somehow Find Their Way To The People Who Need Them At The Times When They Need Them ... Cosmic Forces Guide Such Passings-along.

All My Forebears Worked For A Living. My Grandfather Painted Portraits. My Mother Too. My Aunt Painted Seascapes.

In A Bad Marriage, Friends Are The Invisible Glue. If We Have Enough Friends, We May Go On For Years, Intending To Leave, Talking About Leaving -instead Of Actually Getting Up And Leaving.

It Is A Sad Paradox That When Male Authors Impersonate Women ... They Are Said To Be Dealing With 'cosmic, Major Concerns' - But When We Impersonate Ourselves We Are Said To Be Writing 'women's Fiction' Or 'women's Poetry.

It Was The Old Psychosomatic Side-step. Everyone In My Family Dances It At Every Opportunity. You've Given Me A Splitting Headache! You've Given Me Indigestion! You've Given Me Crotch Rot! You've Given Me Auditory Hallucinations! You've Given Me A Heart Attack! You've Given Me Cancer!