I lived through a classic publishing story. My editor was fired a month before the book came out. The editor who took it over already had a full plate. It was never advertised. We didn't get reviewed in any major outlets.

One of his tears fell in my mouth, where it became a blue sapphire, source of strength, source of strength and eternal hope.

There's something almost adolescent about Whitman's paean to everything that was and remains good about America.

The real Mary Poppins got lost when Hollywood turned her into a cream puff.

My heart is a ladle of sweet water brimming over.

on the day that the intlligence and talents of women are fully honored and employed, the human community and the planet itself will benefit in ways we can only begin to imagine.

I would have stayed forever within the garden of Re-mose's childhood, but time is a mother's enemy.