Anger Is Its Own Excuse And Its

I Could Run Nearly Naked On A Hot, Windy Beach And Plunge Without Care Into A Running Diamond Sea; Roll On The Sand And Fling My Arms Wide To The Sun And Still Be What I Was...young.

Didn't I Say I'd Always Be Your Same Stars? If You Get To Missing Me, Just Look Up.

I Have A Theory That Southern Madhouses Are Full Of Gifted Women Who Were Stifled.

I Think Every Creative Impulse That A Working Writer, Or Artist Of Any Sort Has, Comes Out Of That Dark Old Country Where Dreams Come From.

A Real Friendship Is A Light Thing. A Real Friend Holds You Loosely.