Write the book you want to read, the one you cannot find.
These are frightening times...when she feels herself annointed by loneliness.
Here's to another year and let's hope it's above ground.
This is why I read novels: so I can escape my own unrelenting monologue.
A woman's life isn't worth a plateful of cabbage if she hasn't felt life stir under her heart. Taking a little one to nurse, watching him grow to manhood, that's what love is.
It occurs to her that she should record this flash of insight in her journal - otherwise she is sure to forget, for she is someone who is always learning and forgetting and obliged to learn again.