Well, What I Mean Is That I

When Women Are Secret They Are Secret Indeed; And More Often Then Not They Only Begin To Be Secret With The Advent Of A Second Lover.

So Each Had A Private Little Sun For Her Soul To Bask In; Some Dream, Some Affection, Some Hobby, Or At Least Some Remote And Distant Hope.

Bathsheba Loved Troy In The Way That Only Self-reliant Women Love When They Abandon Their Self-reliance. When A Strong Woman Recklessly Throws Away Her Strength She Is Worse Than A Weak Woman Who Has Never Any Strength To Throw Away. One Source Of Her Inadequacy Is The Novelty Of The Occasion. She Has Never Had Practice In Making The Best Of Such A Condition. Weakness Is Doubly Weak By Being New.

The Social Mould Civilization Fits Us Into Have No More Relation To Our Actual Shapes Than The Conventional Shapes Of The Constellations Have To The Real Star-patterns. I Am Called Mrs. Richard Phillotson, Living A Calm Wedded Life With My Counterpart Of That Name. But I Am Not Really Mrs. Richard Phillotson, But A Woman Tossed About, All Alone, With Aberrant Passions, And Unaccountable Antipathies.

Is A Woman A Thinking Unit At All, Or A Fraction Always Wanting Its Integer?