What Of October, That Ambiguous Month, The

All Things Come Alike To All; There Is One Event To The Righteous, And To The Wicked; To The Good And To The Clean, And To The Unclean; To Him That Sacrificeth, And To Him That Sacrificeth Not.

We, As A Society, Can't Tolerate Very Much Difference.

I Wasn't An Active Feminist In The '60s, Never Have Been.

All Sanity Depends On This: That It Should Be A Delight To Feel Heat Strike The Skin, A Delight To Stand Upright, Knowing The Bones Moving Easily Under The Flesh.

It's Lovely To Have Money To Give Away - That's The Bonus Of Winning The Nobel.