Our Bones Ache Only While

There's Something Evil In Me That Loves Evil And Degradation--purity's Black Backside! That Loves Honesty With A Horrid Love; Or Why Have I Always Gone Seeking It At The Liar's Door?

We Are Beginning To Wonder Whether A Servant Girl Hasn't The Best Of It After All. She Knows How The Salad Tastes Without The Dressing, And She Knows How Life's Lived Before It Gets To The Parlor Door.

She Was Nervous About The Future; It Made Her Indelicate. She Was One Of The Most Unimportantly Wicked Women Of Her Time --because She Could Not Let Her Time Alone, And Yet Could Never Be A Part Of It. She Wanted To Be The Reason For Everything And So Was The Cause Of Nothing. She Had The Fluency Of Tongue And Action Meted Out By Divine Providence To Those Who Cannot Think For Themselves. She Was The Master Of The Over-sweet Phrase, The Over-tight Embrace.

I Like My Human Experience Served Up With A Little Silence And Restraint. Silence Makes Experience Go Further And, When It Does Die, Gives It That Dignity Common To A Thing One Had Touched And Not Ravished

I Am Not A Critic; To Me Criticism Is So Often Nothing More Than The Eye Garrulously Denouncing The Shape Of The Peephole That Gives Access To Hidden Treasure.