Goodbye -- Because I Love You.

I Dance With People I Despise; Amuse Myself With Men Whose Only Talent Lies In Their Feet, Gain The Disapprobation Of People I Honor And Respect; Return Home At Day Break With My Brain In A State Which Was Never Intended For It; And Arise In The Middle Of The Next Day Feeling Infinitely More, In Spirit And Flesh Like A Liliputian, Than A Woman With Body And Soul. Entry (when She Was Eighteen) In Her Commonplace Book, 1868-1869.

No, I Only Think You Cruel, As I Said The Other Day. Maybe Not Intentionally Cruel; But You Seem To Be Forcing Me Into Disclosures Which Can Result In Nothing; As If You Would Have Me Bare A Wound For The Pleasure Of Looking At It, Without The Intention Or Power Of Healing It.

I Don't Mind Walking. I Always Feel So Sorry For Women Who Don't Like To Walk; They Miss So Much--so Many Rare Little Glimpses Of Life; And We Women Learn So Little Of Life On The Whole.

In Short, Mrs. Pontellier Was Beginning To Realize Her Position In The Universe As A Human Being, And To Recongize Her Relations As An Individual To The World Within And About Her. This May Seem Like A Ponderous Weight Of Wisdom To Descend Upon The Soul Of A Young Woman Of Twenty-eight - Perhaps More Wisdom Than The Holy Ghost Is Usually Pleased To Vouchsafe To Any Woman.

It Was Not Despair, But It Seemed To Her As If Life Were Passing By, Leaving Its Promises Broken And Unfulfilled. Yet There Were Other Days When She Listened, Was Led On And Deceived By Fresh Promises Which Her Youth Had Held Out To Her.