But There Are Some Wounds That Can

But I Now Think What I Was Doing, In A Completely Unconscious Way, Was Getting Off The Turf Where My Husband And I Might Be Rivals. We Were Both Working In Fiction... So I Look Back And I See That I Consciously Vacated The Contested Ground.

On Melbourne Summer Mornings The Green Trams Go Rolling In Stately Progress Down Tunnels Thick With Leaves: The Bright Air Carries Along The Avenue Their Patient Chime, The Chattering Of Their Wheels.

It's A Terrific Privilege To Be Able To See Into Somebody Else's Life.

I Think Writers Are Very Anxious.

To Slide Into The Domed Reading Room At Ten Each Morning, Specially In Summer, Off The Hot Street Outside, Was A Sensation As Delicious As Dropping Into The Water Off The Concrete Edge Of The Fitzroy Baths.