I Began To Be A Woman At

I Never Give My Real Self. I Have A Hundred Sides, And I Turn First One Way And Then The Other. I Am Playing A Deep Game. I Have A Number Of Strong Cards Up My Sleeve. I Have Never Been Myself, Excepting To Two Friends.

I Am A Genius. Then It Amused Me To Keep Saying So, But Now It Does Not. I Expected To Be Happy Sometime. Now I Know I Shall Never Be.

I Have Never Read A Line Of Walt Whitman.

I Am Not Good. I Am Not Virtuous. I Am Not Sympathetic. I Am Not Generous. I Am Merely And Above All A Creature Of Intense Passionate Feeling. I Feel—everything. It Is My Genius. It Burns Me Like Fire.

Genius, Apart From Natural Sensitiveness, Is Prone Equally To Unreasoning Joy And To Bitterest Morbidness.