There Are No Inanimate Objects.

It's The Perpetually Unfinished Quality Of Housework That Makes It Oppressive - It Never Ends, Like Bad Psychoanalysis, Or A Dream Interrupted. It Is Paradoxically True That It Is Exactly This Daily Re-creation Of The World That Lends Housekeeping Its Nobility And Romance.

To Have A Crisis, And Act Upon It, Is One Thing. To Dwell In Perpetual Crisis Is Another.

Persecution Always Acts As A Jell For Members Of Cults; It Proves To Them, In The Absence Of History, Liturgy, Tradition, And Doctrine, That They Are God's Chosen.

There Is Something Worse Than Dying, And That Is Humiliation - At Least So It Seemed To Me.

Every House We Have Lived In, Every Building To Which Our Hands Have Lent Their Work, Belongs To Us By Virtue Of Love Or Of Regret.