To Me And My Kind Life Itself

Memory Is The Only Friend Of Grief.

In California I Began To Think That, Except On The Beaches, No-one Had The Use Of Their Legs.

Every Piece Of Writing Starts From What I Call A Grit A Sight Or Sound, A Sentence Or Happening That Does Not Pass Away But Quite Inexplicably Lodges In The Mind.

Of Course One Never Knows In Draft If It's Going To Turn Out, Even With My Age And Experience.

As One Gets Older Being Sad And Miserable Can Become A Bit Of A Habit. To Counteract This, She Suggests Making A Point Of Savoring Such Things As The Tastiness Of A Piece Of Fruit, Or Other Small Things We Might Have Been Prone To Overlook During Our Younger, Busier Days.