A Man Is A Writer If All

We Are What We Were At Birth, And Each Trait Has Remained In Conformity With Earth's And With Heaven's Logic: Be The Devil's Tool, Resort To Black Magic, None Can Diverge From The Ends Which Heaven Foreordained.

If You Will Tell Me Why The Fen Appears Impassable, I Then Will Tell You Why I Think That I Can Cross It If I Try.

[on Her Use Of Quotations:] When A Thing Has Been Said So Well That It Could Not Be Said Better, Why Paraphrase It? Hence My Writing, Is, If Not A Cabinet Of Fossils, A Kind Of Collection Of Flies In Amber.

... We Do Not Admire What We Cannot Understand.

You Are Not Male Nor Female, But A Plan Deep-set Within The Heart Of Man.