I Am A Genius. Then It Amused

It Is With Pain That I Read Of The Dire Effects Of My Book Upon The Minds Of Young Girls.

I Would Rather Be A Fairly Happy Wife And Mother.

I Want To Live Quietly.

I Want To Write Such Things As Compel The Admiring Acclamation Of The World At Large, Such Things As Are Written But Once In Years, Things Subtle But Distinctly Different From The Books Written Every Day.

I Can Think Of Nothing In The World Like The Utter Littleness, The Paltriness, The Contemptibleness, The Degradation, Of The Woman Who Is Tied Down Under A Roof With A Man Who Is Really Nothing To Her; Who Wears The Man’s Name, Who Bears The Man’s Children — Who Plays The Virtuous Woman. . . . May I Never, I Say, Become That Abnormal Merciless Animal, That Deformed Monstrosity — A Virtuous Woman.