Row, Row, Row Your Boat.

What She Felt Was A Lighthearted Sort Of Compassion, Almost Like Laughter. A Swish Of Tender Hilarity, Getting The Better Of All Her Sores And Hollows, For The Time Given.

In Dreams You Can Have The Feeling That You've Had This Dream Before, That You Have This Dream Over And Over Again, And You Know That It's Really Nothing That Simple. You Know That There's A Whole Underground System That You Call 'dreams,' Having Nothing Better To Call Them, And That This System Is Not Like Roads Or Tunnels But More Like A Live Body Network, All Coiling And Stretching, Unpredictable But Finally Familiar - Where You Are Now, Where You've Always Been.

I Loved Taking Off. In My Own House, I Seemed To Be Often Looking For A Place To Hide - Sometimes From The Children But More Often From The Jobs To Be Done And The Phone Ringing And The Sociability Of The Neighborhood. I Wanted To Hide So That I Could Get Busy At My Real Work, Which Was A Sort Of Wooing Of Distant Parts Of Myself.

The Constant Happiness Is Curiosity.

Luck Took Me Right Out Of Myself - I Read It In One Gulp, And It Never Let Me Down. Sharp And Surprising But Always Responsible, No Tricks For Tricks' Sake; So Satisfying, With Its Shifting And Puzzles. So Much Fiction Turns Out To Be Diversion, In Spite Of Fancy Claims, And Doesn't Really Look At Anything. Well - This Does.