How withered away one can be from a life of unremitting toil. — Joanna Russ

As my mother once said: The boys throw stones at the frogs in jest.

But the frogs die in earnest.

Remember: I didn’t and don’t want to be a “feminine” version or a diluted version or a special version or a subsidiary version or an ancillary version, or an adapted version of the heroes I admire. I want to be the heroes themselves.

What future is there for a female child who aspires to being Humphrey Bogart?

Remember, I don’t threaten. I don’t play. I always carry firearms. The truly violent are never without them.