Of Poets I Put Virgil First -

Some People Say That Beauty Is A Curse. It May Be True, But I'm Sure I Should Not Have At All Minded Being Cursed A Little.

I Am Lithe, But Fragile From Constant Involuntary Self-analysis.

I Have Read Of Women Who Have Been Strongly, Grandly Brave. Sometimes I Have Dreamed That I Might Be Brave. The Possibilities Of This Life Are Magnificent.

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.

When I Wrote My Book I Wanted To Love Someone. I Wanted To Be In Love. Now I Know That I Shall Never Be In Love - And I No Longer Wish To Be.