I never wanted Mary Poppins to be my nanny. I wanted to be her when I grew up.

I also wish I'd been born with a clearly defined talent for something, or else stupid.

Maybe someone will know I didn't weave crowns to draw blood; that I faught against mockery; that I did fill the high tide of my soul with truth. I repaid vileness with doves.

While the churches, bringing the sweet smell of piety for the soul, came in prancing and farting like brewery horses in bock-beer time, the sister evangelism, with release and joy for the body, crept in. silently and greyly, with its head bowed and its face covered.

Written By John Steinbeck

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