I was also an early writer, and when I began to write, at about the age of seven, stories in pencil with crayon illustrations that my poor mother was obligated to read, I wrote exactly the kinds of stories I was reading: All my characters were white and blue-eyed, they played in the snow, they ate apples, (Laughter) and they talked a lot about the weather, how lovely it was that the sun had come out.
Agri es sāku arī rakstīt. Kad aptuveni septiņu gadu vecumā sāku rakstīt, – ar zīmuli rakstītus stāsti ar vaska krītiņu ilustrācijām, ko manai nabaga mātei vajadzēja lasīt, – es rakstīju tieši tādus stāstus, kādus pati lasīju. Visi mani varoņi bija balti, ar zilām acīm, viņi rotaļājās sniegā, ēda ābolus (Smiekli) un daudz runāja par laikapstākļiem, par to, cik jauki, ka bija uzspīdējusi saule.