New York was a new and strange world. Vast, impersonal, merciless.... Always before I had felt like a person, an individual, hopeful that I could mold my life according to some desire of my own. But here in New York I was ignorant, insignificant, unimportant--one in millions whose destiny concerned no one. New York did not even know of my existence. Nor did it care.

I have loved and bitterness left me for that hour. But there are times when love itself is bitter.

To die would have been beautiful. But I belong to those who do not die for the sake of beauty.

My mother listened to all the news from the camp during the strike. She said little, especially when my father or the men who worked for him were about I remember her instinctive and unhesitating sympathy for the miners.

For the first week of the Sian events I was a first aid worker in the streets of Sian.

When I was a girl, the West was still young, and the law of force, of physical force, was dominant.

But settled things were enemies to me and soon lost their newness and color. The unknown called.