Certainly my inner world will never be a peaceful place of bloom; it will have some peace, and occasional riots of bloom, but always a little fight going on too. There is no way I can be peacefully happy in this society and in this skin. I am committed to Uneasy Street. I like it; it is my idea that this street leads to the future, and that I am being true to a way of life which is not here yet, but is more real than what is here.

Any chance beats no chance.

I've had too many experiences in my life of being the first woman in some damned occupation.

Anyone who shoots a real gun at you when drunk and angry is simply not husband material, regardless of his taste in literature.

I cannot teach -- if I teach as teaching should be I become so exhausted I nearly die, I seem to have no middle gear.

Did you ever look into the personalities of male cooks, Army, logging camp, etc.? They're all supposed to be crazy, incomprehensible, contemptible. And angry. The act of feeding adult males seems to have strange personality effects.

The only way I can possibly heat my so-called mind up to working temperature is to imagine I'm talking to someone I admire.