You remember too much," my mother said to me recently. "Why hold onto all that?" And I said, "where can I put it down?
Here we go mother on the shipless ocean. Pity us, pity the ocean, here we go.
You can get used to eating breakfast with a man in a fedora. You can get used to anything, my mother was in the habit of saying.
[Short Talk on Sylvia Plath] Did you see her mother on television? She said plain, burned things. She said I thought it an excellent poem but it hurt me. She did not say jungle fear. She did not say jungle hatred wild jungle weeping chop it back chop it. She said self-government she said end of the road. She did not say humming in the middle of the air what you came for chop.
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