A Nude By Degas Is Chaste. But

Thanks To Our Cinctures And Corsets We Have Succeeded In Making An Artificial Being Out Of Woman. She Is An Anomaly, And Nature Herself, Obedient To The Laws Of Heredity, Aids Us In Complicating And Enervating Her. We Carefully Keep Her In A State Of Nervous Weakness And Muscular Inferiority, And In Guarding Her From Fatigue, We Take Away From Her Possibilities Of Development. Thus Modeled On A Bizarre Ideal Of Slenderness To Which, Strangely Enough, We Continue To Adhere, Our Women Have Nothing In Common With Us, And This, Perhaps, May Not Be Without Grave Moral And Social Disadvantages.

I Must Confess That I Too Am A Woman And That I Am Always Prepared To Applaud A Woman Who Is More Daring Than I, And Is Equal To A Man In Fighting For Freedom Of Behavior.

If I Did What Has Already Been Done, I Would Be A Plagiarist And Would Consider Myself Unworthy; So I Do Something Different And People Call Me A Scoundrel. I'd Rather Be A Scoundrel Than A Plagiarist!

Life Is Hardly More Than A Fraction Of A Second. Such A Little Time To Prepare Oneself For Eternity!

No One Wants My Painting Because It Is Different From Other People's Peculiar, Crazy Public That Demands The Greatest Possible Degree Of Originality On The Painter's Part And Yet Won't Accept Him Unless His Work Resembles That Of The Others!