What Do You Do When You're No

At The Risk, Then, Of Being Shunned By Some Of My Gloomier Peers, I Venture To Tell You That Writers Work Like Demons, Suffer Greatly, And Are Also Happy, In Unmistakable Ways, Some Of The Time. If We Had No Knowledge Of Happiness, Our Novels Wouldn't Sufficiently Resemble Real Life. Some Of Us Are Even Made A Little Bit Happy, On Occasion, By The Writing Process Itself. I Mean, Really, If There Wasn't Some Sort Of Enjoyment To Be Derived, Would Any Of Us Keep Doing It?

I Was Not Ladylike, Nor Was I Manly. I Was Something Else Altogether. There Were So Many Different Ways To Be Beautiful.

She Is, Above All Else, Tired; She Wants More Than Anything To Return To Her Bed And Her Book. The World, This World, Feels Suddenly Stunned And Stunted, Far From Everything.

You Can't Find Peace By Avoiding Life.

She Will Remain Sane And She Will Live As She Was Meant To Live, Richly And Deeply, Among Others Of Her Kind, In Full Possession And Command Of Her Gifts.