Quite Like Old Times,' The

There Are Always Two Deaths, The Real One And The One People Know About.

I Would Never Be Part Of Anything. I Would Never Really Belong Anywhere, And I Knew It, And All My Life Would Be The Same, Trying To Belong, And Failing. Always Something Would Go Wrong. I Am A Stranger And I Always Will Be, And After All I Didn’t Really Care.

I Sit At My Window And The Words Fly Past Me Like Birds — With God's Help I Catch Some.

I Often Want To Cry. That Is The Only Advantage Women Have Over Men — At Least They Can Cry.

The Woman Had A Humble, Cringing Manner. Of Course, She Had Discovered That, Having Neither Money Nor Virtue, She Had Better Be Humble If She Knew What Was Good For Her.