In A Dream You Are Never Eighty.

My Heart Is On A Budget. It Keeps Me On The Brink.

There Is Joy In All: In The Hair I Brush Each Morning, In The Cannon Towel, Newly Washed, That I Rub My Body With Each Morning.

...became A Woman Who Learned Her Own Skin And Dug Into Her Soul And Found It Full.

The Snow Has Quietness In It; No Songs, No Smells, No Shouts Or Traffic. When I Speak My Own Voice Shocks Me.

I Like You; Your Eyes Are Full Of Language." [letter To Anne Clarke, July 3, 1964.]