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In my mind, Martha, you are buried in cement right up to your neck. No… right up to your nose… that’s much quieter.

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To all of you who have made my being alive so wonderful, so exciting and so full, my thanks and all my love.

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George, who is out somewhere there in the dark, who is good to me - whom I revile, who can keep learning the games we play as quickly as I can change ...more