My Loneliness Tasted Like Pennies.

There Used To Be A Category Called Women's Fiction - Meaning Not Too Rude, Not Too Much Sex, A Bit Domestic And Internal. Women Have Changed So Much. We're So Varied. And We've Become More Interested In The Same Varied Experience In Fiction.

I Imagined My Soul Taking In These Words Like Silicated Water In The Petrified Forest, Turning My Wood To Patterned Agate. I Liked It When My Mother Shaped Me This Way. I Thought Clay Must Feel Happy In The Good Potter's Hand.

Let Me Tell You A Few Things About Regret. There Is No End To It. Do You Regret The Beginning Which Ended So Badly, Or Just The Ending Itself?

There Is No God, There Is Only What You Want.

Wasn't That The Way It Always Was? You Didn't Know, You Couldn't Tell, You Just Let It Happen... Perhaps They Didn't Know Themselves. Sometimes The Line Was Very Fine.