In Childbirth, As In Other

Knowing Few Children Of My Age With Whom To Compare Notes, I Envied The Children Of Literature To Whom Interesting Things Were Always Happening.

The Whole Point Of Muck-raking, Apart From All The Jokes, Is To Try To Do Something About What You've Been Writing About. You May Not Be Able To Change The World But At Least You Can Embarrass The Guilty.

A Thirteen-year-old Is A Kaleidoscope Of Different Personalities, If Not In Most Ways A Mere Figment Of Her Own Imagination. At That Age, What And Who You Are Depends Largely On What Book You Happen To Be Reading At The Moment.

Objectivity? I've Always Had An Objective.

O Death, Where Is Thy Sting? O Grave, Where Is Thy Victory? Where, Indeed. Many A Badly Stung Survivor, Faced With The Aftermath Of Some Relative's Funeral, Has Ruefully Concluded That The Victory Has Been Won Hands Down By A Funeral Establishment - In Disastrously Unequal Battle.