I walk into a room Just as cool as you please, And to a man, The fellows stand or Fall down on their knees. - Maya Angelou

I wouldn't miss Mrs. Flowers, for she had given me her secret word which called forth a djinn who was to serve me all my life: books.

Making a decision to write was a lot like deciding to jump into a frozen lake.

A bizarre sensation pervades a relationship of pretense. No truth seems true. A simple morning's greeting and response appear loaded with innuendo and fraught with implications. ... Each nicety becomes more sterile and each withdrawal more permanent.