People Come And Go All The Time;

My Grief Is That The Publishing World, The Book Writing World Is An Extraordinary Shoddy, Dirty, Dingy World.

The Past Has To Be Seen To Be Dead; Or The Past Will Kill.

My Publisher, Who Was So Good As A Taster And Editor, When She Became A Writer, Lo And Behold, It Was All This Feminine Tosh.

I'm My Own Writer. My Material Means I'm Entirely Separate.

My Life Is Short. I Can't Listen To Banality.