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.

There's something dreadfully decisive about a beheading.

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

Much that we read of Russia is imagination and desire only.

Like all my family and class, I considered it a sign of weakness to show affection; to have been caught kissing my mother would have been a disgrace, and to have shown affection for my father would have been a disaster.

Now, being a girl, I was ashamed of my body and my lack of strength. So I tried to be a man. I shot, rode, jumped, and took part in all the fights of the boys.