Motherโs particular devils had remained mysterious to me for decades. So had her past. Few born liars ever intentionally embark in truthโs direction, even those who believe that such a journey might axiomatically set them free.
Mary KarrI don't have a copy of my books, and the degree to which I never read them is profound. I never look.
Mary KarrI'd spent way more years worrying about how to look like a poet -- buying black clothes, smearing on scarlet lipstick, languidly draping myself over thrift-store furniture -- than I had learning how to assemble words in some discernible order.
Mary Karr