People Demand A Lot Of The Justice

But I Now Think What I Was Doing, In A Completely Unconscious Way, Was Getting Off The Turf Where My Husband And I Might Be Rivals. We Were Both Working In Fiction... So I Look Back And I See That I Consciously Vacated The Contested Ground.

I'm Full Of Restlessness. Not Lonely, Exactly - My Head Is Racing With Ideas. But It Is That Old Treacherous Feeling That Real Life Is Happening Somewhere Else, And I'm Left Out.

I Like Poking My Nose Into Other People's Lives.

It's Disturbing At My Age To Look At A Young Woman's Destructive Behaviour And Hear The Echoes Of It, Of One's Own Destructiveness In Youth.

On Melbourne Summer Mornings The Green Trams Go Rolling In Stately Progress Down Tunnels Thick With Leaves: The Bright Air Carries Along The Avenue Their Patient Chime, The Chattering Of Their Wheels.