This hill crossed with broken pines and maples lumpy with the burial mounds of uprooted hemlocks (hurricane of '38) out of their rotting hearts generations rise trying once more to become the forest just beyond them tall enough to be… — Grace Paley Copy Share Image
“Near home I ran through our park, where I had aired my children on weekends and late-summer afternoons. I stopped at the northeast playground,… — Grace Paley Copy Share Image
Old age is not a good thing. It can be really hard, and those of us who have it a little easier should keep… — Grace Paley Copy Share Image
Well, by now you must know yourself, honey, whatever you do, life don't stop. It only sits a minute and dreams a dream. — Grace Paley Copy Share Image
The women's movement was coming, but I didn't know it in 1956-1957, when I began to write. — Grace Paley Copy Share Image
It wasn't until I lived in the countryside that I began to understand the life of the countryside and the people in it and… — Grace Paley Copy Share Image
…I go through a story for lies. I might discover the lie of trying to show off. Sometimes they’re lies of character. Sometimes they… — Grace Paley Copy Share Image
I didn't intend. The word "intend" is the wrong word for what I do. It's just that it's something you do, and you can't… — Grace Paley Copy Share Image
