My Mother Was My First Jealous Lover.

How Do You Think It Would Feel To Be Obliged To Ask For A Seat-belt Extender On An Airplane? For The Unfashionably Bulgy, Life Is A Series Of Small Humiliations.

We Are All Proprietary Toward Cities We Love. 'ah, You Should Have Seen Her When I Loved Her!' We Say, Reciting Glories Since Faded Or Defiled, Trusting Her To No One Else; That Others Should Know And Love Her In Her Present Fallen State (for She Must Fall Without Our Vigilant Love) Is A Species Of Betrayal.

One Feels A Quickening Of The Pulse When One Crosses A Border.

Sometimes I Think That Just Not Thinking Of Oneself Is A Form Of Prayer. . .

Every Generation Reinvents The Wheel - And In The Process It Often Adds To Rather Than Subtracts From A Woman's Burdens.