The Kind Of Power Mothers Have Is

The Only Time I Ever Iron The Sheets Or Make Meringues Is When There Is An ... Urgent Deadline In The Offing.

Hope For The Best, Expect The Worst.

In The Mythic Schema Of All Relations Between Men And Women, Man Proposes, And Woman Is Disposed Of.

Why Do You Do Up Your Hair In Those Tortured Plaits, Now, Melanie? Why? Because, She Said. You Know That's No Answer. You're Spoiling Your Pretty Looks, Pet. Come Here. She Did Not Move. He Ground Out His Cigarette On The Window-ledge And Laughed. Come Here, He Said Again, Softly. So She Went.

Spindly Branches Of Buttercups Were Secreted Among Gleaming Stems Still Moist At The Roots From Last Night's Rain That Had Washedand Refreshed The Entire Wood, Had Dowered It In Poignant Transparency, The Unique, Inconsolable Quality Of Rainy Countries, As If All Was Glimpsed Through Tears.