Hell, I Don't Want To Grow Old

One Of The Blessings Of Adulthood Is That One Is No Longer Addressed As A Thing.

What Is The Future Of The Woman's Movement How In The Hell Do I Know I Don't Run It.

During Depression The World Disappears. Language Itself. One Has Nothing To Say. Nothing. No Small Talk, No Anecdotes. Nothing Can Be Risked On The Board Of Talk. Because The Inner Voice Is So Urgent In Its Own Discourse: How Shall I Live? How Shall I Manage The Future? Why Should I Go On?

The Rationale Which Accompanies That Imposition Of Male Authority Euphemistically Referred To As 'the Battle Of The Sexes' Bears A Certain Resemblance To The Formulas Of Nations At War, Where Any Heinousness Is Justified On The Grounds That The Enemy Is Either An Inferior [part Of The] Species Or Really Not Human At All.

People Have A Right To Their Own Lives, And If You Can't Help Somebody, You Ought To Get Out Of Their Way.