In A Weak Moment, I Have Written

If Gone With The Wind Has A Theme It Is That Of Survival. What Makes Some People Come Through Catastrophes And Others, Apparently Just As Able, Strong, And Brave, Go Under? It Happens In Every Upheaval. Some People Survive; Others Don't. What Qualities Are In Those Who Fight Their Way Through Triumphantly That Are Lacking In Those That Go Under? I Only Know That Survivors Used To Call That Quality 'gumption.' So I Wrote About People Who Had Gumption And People Who Didn't.

I've Found Out That Money Is The Most Important Thing In The World And, As God Is My Witness, I Don't Ever Intend To Be Without It Again. I'll Never Be Hungry Again.

I Have A Passionate Desire For Personal Privacy. I Want To Stand Before The World, For Good Or Bad, On The Book I Wrote, Not On What I Say In Letters To Friends, Not On My Husband And My Home Life, The Way I Dress, My Likes And Dislikes, Et Cetera. My Book Belongs To Anyone Who Has The Price, But Nothing Of Me Belongs To The Public.

All Really Nice Girls Wonder When Men Don't Try To Kiss Them. They Know They Shouldn't Want Them To And They Know They Must Act Insulted If They Do, But Just The Same, They Wish The Men Would Try.

Suddenly She Felt Strong And Happy. She Was Not Afraid Of The Darkness Or The Fog And She Knew With A Singing In Her Heart That She Would Never Fear Them Again. No Matter What Mists Might Curl Around Her In The Future, She Knew Her Refuge. She Started Briskly Up The Street Toward Home And The Blocks Seemed Very Long. Far, Far Too Long. She Caught Up Her Skirts To Her Knees And Began To Run Lightly. But This Time She Was Not Running From Fear. She Was Running Because Rhett's Arms Were At The End Of The Street.