No One Knows How To

My Sorrow Is I Used To Read All The Time And Now, As A Writer, I Don't Have The Time To Read.

The Weak Are Cruel. The Strong Have No Need To Be.

I Read Betty Smith's "a Tree Grows In Brooklyn," All Of Shirley Jackson's Books, Which I Loved.

I Wasn't Good Company, That Was True, And People Avoided Me, But That Was All Right. I Was Too Busy Dreaming.

Some Things, When They Change, Never Do Return To The Way They Once Were. Butterflies For Instance, And Women Who've Been In Love With The Wrong Man Too Often.