Do You Think A Man Is The

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.

I Want Fame More Than I Can Tell. But More Than I Want Fame I Want Happiness.

Except Two Breeds - The Stupid And The Narrowly Feline - All Women Have A Touch Of The Lesbian: An Assertion All Good Non-analytic Creatures Refute With Horror, But Quite True: There Is Always The Poignant Intensive Personal Taste, The Flair Of Inner-sex, In The Tenderest Friendships Of Women.

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.

I Want To Live Quietly.