I Thought I Might Write Mysteries For

Sinclair Lewis May Be Ripe For A Revival; His Books Raise Several Interesting Issues Of Art And Fashion.

Twenty-five, He Was. Twenty-five Tomorrow. Some Years The Snow Had Melted For His Birthday, But Not This Year, And So It Had Been A Long Winter Full Of Cows.

A Bookstore Is One Of The Few Places Where All The Cantankerous, Conflicting, Alluring Voices Of The World Co-exist In Peace And Order And The Avid Reader Is As Free As A Person Can Possibly Be, Because She Is Free To Choose Among Them.

I Suspected That There Were Things He Knew That I Had Been Waiting All My Life To Learn.

The Only Siblings I Have Are Half-siblings. My Nuclear Family Would Have Been An Extra-suffocating Threesome. Instead, I Have An Interesting Brother And Sister, In-laws, And Darling Nephews.