My castle, my books.

I recently devoured Anne Sexton: A Biography by Diane Middlebrook. On a lighter note, to counter-balance the ideas of "the mental hospital as a metaphorical space in which to articulate the crazy-making pressures of middle-class life, particularly for women," Sexton has invigorated my commitment to sending thank you cards, and proper correspondence. A novel notion for a stationer, no? I found this note, dashed off after drinks at the Algonquin, particularly delightful:

You were utterly charming and distinguished, and I would
have liked a third Bloody Mary and more laughter.