I, Mary MacLaneFront matterReading editionChapter navigation78 reading sectionsGo to chapterChoose a chapter…Front matterI, MARY MACLANEA crucible of my own makingHalf inevitably, half by choiceA twisted moralEveryday and to-morrowA mathematic dead-wallMy neat blue chairA lost personA thin damnednessA prison of selfA winding sheetThe Dover roadThe harp of worn stringsA strongly-windy SaturdayA someway separate individualSincerity and despairIt’s not deathA human prerogativeThe merciless beautyMy shoesAn eerie qualityA helliadSwift go my daysTo express meBastard lacy valentinesSweet fine sweatings of bloodInstinct—a ‘first law’Loose twosKnitting or plaiting strawA life-long lonely wordTheir voicesMy damnsTo God, care of the whistling windsA working diaphragmLot’s wifeMy echoing footstepsA comfortably vicious personIn my black dress and my still roomTheir little shoesThe sleep of the deadStickily madGod compensates meThe strange bravenessJust beneath my skinGod’s kindly capriceA fascinating creatureNo resonanceBlack-browed WednesdaysThe conscious analystEye when I mean toothA wild mareThe mistA white linerBeneficent bedlamA deathly pathosThe necklaceSlyly garbling and cross-purposingNot quite voilà-toutA damned spiderTo wander and hang and float aboutA thousand kissesA fluttering-moth wishTwenty inches of ajarnessA profoundly delicious ideaA mountebank’s cloakA familiar sharp twistA dark bright fierce fireLate afternoonAn ancient witch-lightThe gray-purpleThe subdivided cellFood and fireThe edge of mist-and-silverA right shape and sizeIce-water, corrosive acid and human breathRhythmA prayer-feelingBeginning of this editionNext chapter →I, MARY MACLANEAll chapters and sections (78)Opening pagesFront matterOther sectionsI, MARY MACLANEA crucible of my own makingHalf inevitably, half by choiceA twisted moralEveryday and to-morrowA mathematic dead-wallMy neat blue chairA lost personA thin damnednessA prison of selfA winding sheetThe Dover roadThe harp of worn stringsA strongly-windy SaturdayA someway separate individualSincerity and despairIt’s not deathA human prerogativeThe merciless beautyMy shoesAn eerie qualityA helliadSwift go my daysTo express meBastard lacy valentinesSweet fine sweatings of bloodInstinct—a ‘first law’Loose twosKnitting or plaiting strawA life-long lonely wordTheir voicesMy damnsTo God, care of the whistling windsA working diaphragmLot’s wifeMy echoing footstepsA comfortably vicious personIn my black dress and my still roomTheir little shoesThe sleep of the deadStickily madGod compensates meThe strange bravenessJust beneath my skinGod’s kindly capriceA fascinating creatureNo resonanceBlack-browed WednesdaysThe conscious analystEye when I mean toothA wild mareThe mistA white linerBeneficent bedlamA deathly pathosThe necklaceSlyly garbling and cross-purposingNot quite voilà-toutA damned spiderTo wander and hang and float aboutA thousand kissesA fluttering-moth wishTwenty inches of ajarnessA profoundly delicious ideaA mountebank’s cloakA familiar sharp twistA dark bright fierce fireLate afternoonAn ancient witch-lightThe gray-purpleThe subdivided cellFood and fireThe edge of mist-and-silverA right shape and sizeIce-water, corrosive acid and human breathRhythmA prayer-feelingAuthor’s portrait photograph and signatureI, MARY MACLANE →
