It is far better to endure patiently a smart which nobody feels but yourself, than to commit a hasty action whose evil consequences will extend to all connected with you.

Oh, I am not going to die, am I? He will not separate us, we have been so happy.

But this I know; the writer who possesses the creative gift owns something of which he is not always master--something that at times strangely wills and works for itself. He may lay down rules and devise principles, and to rules and principles it will perhaps for years lie in subjection; and then, haply without any warning of revolt, there comes a time when it will no longer consent.

It is a pity that doing one's best does not always answer.

No mockery in this world ever sounds to me so hollow as that of being told to cultivate happiness. What does such advice mean? Happiness is not a potato, to be planted in mould, and tilled with manure.

But afterwards, is there nothing more for me in life - no true home - nothing to be dearer to me than myself?

You, Jane, I must have you for my own--entirely my own.