She never quite leaves her children at home, even when she doesn't take them along.

Fiction is not a dream. Nor is it guesswork. It is imagining based on facts, and the facts must be accurate or the work of imagining will not stand up.

I don't believe that it's true that the poor will always be with us. I think that kind of pious fatalism is just an excuse for keeping things the way they are.

She never quite leaves her children at home, even when she doesn't take them along.

Cleaning up with children around is like shoveling during a blizzard

Regrets are as personal as fingerprints.

You wouldn't be caught wearing cheap perfume, would you? Then why do you want to wear cheap perfume in your conduct?