Only The Magic And The Dream Are

She’ll Have No Lover, For I Don’t Want Her And She’ll See No Other.

I'm No Use To Anybody,' I Say. 'i'm A Cérébrale, Can't You See That?' Thinking How Funny A Book Would Be, Called 'just A Cérébrale Or You Can't Stop Me From Dreaming'. Only, Of Course, To Be Accepted As Authentic, To Carry Any Conviction, It Would Have To Be Written By A Man. What A Pity, What A Pity!

I Found When I Was A Child That If I Put The Hurt Into Words, It Would Go.

Some Must Cry So That Others May Be Able To Laugh The More Heartily. Sacrifices Are Necessary.

She Could Give Herself Up To The Written Word As Naturally As A Good Dancer To Music Or A Fine Swimmer To Water. The Only Difficulty Was That After Finishing The Last Sentence She Was Left With A Feeling At Once Hollow And Uncomfortably Full. Exactly Like Indigestion.