A Woman Who Thinks She Is Intelligent

Voluptuaries, Consumed By Their Senses, Always Begin By Flinging Themselves With A Great Display Of Frenzy Into An Abyss. But They Survive, They Come To The Surface Again. And They Develop A Routine Of The Abyss: It's Four O Clock. At Five I Have My Abyss.

January, Month Of Empty Pockets! Let Us Endure This Evil Month, Anxious As A Theatrical Producer's Forehead.

Jealousy Is Not At All Low, But It Catches Us Humbled And Bowed Down, At First Sight.

The Only Virtue On Which I Pride Myself Is My Self-doubt; When A Writer Loses Her Self-doubt, The Time Has Come To Lay Aside Her Pen.

You Don't Think Before You Do Something Foolish. You Do Your Thinking Afterwards.