There Are All Sorts Of Ways Of

All That Remains Is The Mad Desire For Present Identity Through A Woman.

Finished Things Cease To Be A Shelter For The Spirit; But Work In Progress Is A Delight.

Perhaps There Are Only A Few Women Who Experience Without Deception The Overwhelming Intoxication Of The Senses Which They Expectfrom Their Encounters With Men, Which They Feel Bound To Expect Because Of The Fuss Made About It In Novels, Written By Men.

My Greatest Fear: Repetition.

Jealousy Is The Fear Of Comparison.