Gossip Is The Opiate Of The Oppressed.

Without The Gods, How Would I Sing?' I Asked. With Your Own Voice,' He Said.

We Write As If Our Lives Depended Upon It. They Do.

What Storyteller Is Adequate To Her Story? The Story Carries Us Along, Bottles On The Tide, Each With Our Secret Mesage And The Fervent Hope That It Does Not Turn Out To Be Blank.

Jealousy Is All The Fun You Think They Had.

In Any Triangle, Who Is The Betrayer, Who The Unseen Rival, And Who The Humiliated Lover? Oneself, Oneself, And No One But Oneself!