Here I Sit, Alone At 60, Bald

I'm Not "happy" But I'm Not Unhappy About It.

Cancer, Like Any Other Illness, Is A Bore.

To Play Trivial Pursuit With A Life Like Mine Could Be Said To Be A Form Of Homeopathy.

What I'm Above All Primarily Concerned With Is The Substance Of Life, The Pith Of Reality. If I Had To Sum Up My Work, I Suppose That's It Really: I'm Taking The Pith Out Of Reality.

The Appeal Of Reading, She Thought, Lay In Its Indifference: There Was Something Undeferring About Literature. Books Did Not Care Who Was Reading Them Or Whether One Read Them Or Not. All Readers Were Equal, Herself Included. Literature, She Thought, Is A Commonwealth; Letters A Republic.