Even as we enumerate their shortcomings, the rigor of raising children ourselves makes clear to us our mothers incredible strength. We fear both. If they are not strong, who will protect us? If they are not imperfect, how can we equal them? – Anna Quindlen
There is little premium in poetry in a world that thinks of Pound and Whitman as a weight and a sampler, not an Ezra, a Walt, a thing of beauty, a joy forever. – Anna Quindlen
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