There Is A Gulf Fixed Between Those

I Think Being A Woman Is Like Being Irish. Everyone Says You're Important And Nice, But You Take Second Place All The Same.

Trains Induce Such Terrible Anxiety. They Image The Possibility Of Total And Irrevocable Failure. They Are Also Dirty, Rackety, Packed With Strangers, An Object Lesson In The Foul Contingency Of Life: The Talkative Fellow-traveller, The Possibility Of Children.

Time Can Divorce Us From The Reality Of People, It Can Separate Us From People And Turn Them Into Ghosts. Or Rather It Is We Who Turn Them Into Ghosts Or Demons. Some Kinds Of Fruitless Preoccupations With The Past Can Create Such Simulacra, And They Can Exercise Power, Like Those Heroes At Troy Fighting For A Phantom Helen.

There Is No Beyond, There Is Only Here, The Infinitely Small, Infinitely Great And Utterly Demanding Present.

Confession Ran In The Family.