Every Age, Through Being Beheld Too Close,

Many A Fervid Man Writes Books As Cold And Flat As Graveyard Stones.

But So Fair, She Takes The Breath Of Men Away Who Gaze Upon Her Unaware.

I Would Confide To You Perhaps My Secret Profession Of Faith - Which Is ... Which Is ... That Let Us Say And Do What We Please And Can ... There Is A Natural Inferiority Of Mind In Women - Of The Intellect ... Not By Any Means, Of The Moral Nature - And That The History Of Art And Of Genius Testifies To This Fact Openly.

You're Something Between A Dream And A Miracle.

She Lived, We'll Say, A Harmless Life, She Called A Virtuous Life, A Quiet Life, Which Was Not Life At All (but That She Had Not Lived Enough To Know)