Mystery fiction is, after all, a substitute for tranquilizers, strong drink, and bad, if diverting, companions. One slips into bed ... onto the train ... into the chair in the sickroom ... and is suddenly transported to a place where… — Mary Cantwell Copy Share Image
Mystery fiction is, after all, a substitute for tranquilizers, strong drink, and bad, if diverting, companions. One slips into bed ... onto the train… — Mary Cantwell Copy Share Image
Meanwhile, as we read, two little girls slept as if couched on zephyrs on the south side of the parlor floor, in a room that had bunny wallpaper...and a bookcase crammed with the collected Beatrix Potter. Snow White was in a youth bed and Rose Red was in a crib, and next to them was the little blue and white… — Mary Cantwell Copy Share
Like most people, most Westerners anyway, I have a sneaking suspicion I am immortal. — Mary Cantwell Copy Share Image
In giving our daughter life, her father and I had also given her death, something I hadn't realized until that new creature flailed her… — Mary Cantwell Copy Share Image
“If I was not really at home with everyone, neither was I a stranger to anyone, and if all my acquaintances were slightly skewed,… — Mary Cantwell Copy Share Image
I was, after all, the daughter of a man who believed that to be involved with books was to live at the heart of… — Mary Cantwell Copy Share Image
the hymns were born in the fifteenth or sixteenth century or earlier, and listening to them was like licking an icicle: the same chill,… — Mary Cantwell Copy Share Image
I had wanted to come back to Greenwich Village ever since I had left Waverly Place, and since moving to West Eleventh Street, I… — Mary Cantwell Copy Share Image
