The Heart Of A Woman Who Loves

In The Midst Of Life, We Are In Death.

Words Are Such Uncertain Things, They So Often Sound Well But Mean The Opposite Of What One Thinks They Do.

The Rottenness Comes From Within.

I Have Wanted . . . To Commit A Murder Myself. I Recognized This As The Desire Of The Artist To Express Himself! . . . But-incongruous As It May Seem To Some-i Was Restrained And Hampered By My Innate Sense Of Justice. The Innocent Must Not Suffer.

Sitting Here With One's Knitting, One Just Sees The Facts. -"the Blood-stained Pavement