Now I am just an elderly lady who is full of spleen, who humps around greater Boston in a God-awful hat, who never lived and yet outlived her time, hating men and dogs and Democrats.

Don't bite till you know if it's bread or stone.

All I wanted was a little piece of life, to be married, to have children.... I was trying my damnedest to lead a conventional life, for that was how I was brought up, and it was what my husband wanted of me. But one can't build little white picket fences to keep the nightmares out.

Though rain curses the window let the poem be made.

I think it will be a miracle if I don't someday end up killing myself.

Everyone in me is a bird I am beating all my wings

God owns heaven but He craves the earth.