Houses”-so the Wise Men tell me-
“Mansions”! Mansions must be warm!
Mansions cannot let the tears in,
Mansions must exclude the storm!

“Many Mansions,” by “his Father,”
I don’t know him; snugly built!
Could the Children find the way there-
Some, would even trudge tonight!

Some people will each start investing more of their salary on ‘their’ house and spending less of it on ‘their’ car or cars only when they start being able to take ‘their’ house to work, funerals, weddings, etc.

Lost in the corn rows, I remember feeling just another stalk, and thus this country takes me over in the way I occupy myself when I am well . . . completely – to the edge of both my house and body. No one notices, when they walk by, that I am brimming in the doorways.

Who can ever affirm, or deny that the houses which have sheltered us as children, or as adults, and our predecessors too, do not have embedded in their walls, one with the dust and cobwebs, one with the overlay of fresh wallpaper and paint, the imprint of what-has-been, the suffering, the joy?

You know, there’s no pleasure like the joy of being a sexual woman.

You can take your careers, your money, your houses and possessions, and you go and throw them in a lake.

Because life is really all about sex.

That’s what I keep learning, again and again.

It’s the most important thing, woven into the very centre of life.

And I just know I was put on this earth to be a sexual woman, and to explore as much about sex as I can.

Whether it is big or small, the size of a poor man’s yard incessantly reminds him that he is poor.

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