Only Write To Me, Write To Me,

Dorothy Was In That State Human Beings Passed Through At The Beginning Of A Love Affair, In Which They Desire To Say Anything And Everything To The Beloved, To The Alter Ego, Before They Have Learned What The Real Other Can And Can't Understand, Can And Can't Accept.

I Think The Virtue I Prize Above All Others Is Curiosity.

As A Little Girl, I Didn't Like Stories About Little Girls. I Liked Stories About Dragons And Beasts And Princes And Princesses And Fear And Terror And The Four Musketeers And Almost Anything Other Than Nice Little Girls Making Moral Decisions About Whether To Tell The Teacher About What The Other Little Girl Did Or Did Not Do.

I Hated Being A Novelist When I Was 20 - I Had Nothing To Write About.

She Didn't Like To Be Talked About. Equally, She Didn't Like Not To Be Talked About, When The High-minded Chatter Rushed On As Though She Was Not There. There Was No Pleasing Her, In Fact. She Had The Grace, Even At Eleven, To Know There Was No Pleasing Her. She Thought A Lot, Analytically, About Other People's Feelings, And Had Only Just Begun To Realize That This Was Not Usual, And Not Reciprocated.