A week in the hospital she had told us. A hysterectomy, she had said. It had seemed unremarkable to me in a woman of forty-six long finished with childbearing, although every day that I grow older I realize there is never anything unremarkable about losing any part of what makes you female - a breast, a womb, a child, a man.

Here hyacinths of heavenly blue, shook their rich tresses to the morn.

Y.T. knows he's a computer guy because he has long hair in a ponytail and he's wearing jeans and he seems gentle.

Has the world ever been changed by anything save the thought and its magic vehicle the Word?

Written By Thomas Mann

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