I know the greatness of Christianity; it is a past greatness.. I live in 1924, and the Christian venture is done.

They lived freely among the students, they argued with the men over philosophical, sociological and artistic matters, they were just as good as the men themselves: only better, since they were women.

Oh, for the wonder that bubbles into my soul.

Sleep is still most perfect, in spite of hygienists, when it is shared with a beloved. The warmth, the security and peace of soul, the utter comfort from the touch of the other, knits the sleep, so that it takes the body and soul completely in its healing.

The world of men is dreaming, it has gone mad in its sleep, and a snake is strangling it, but it can't wake up.

A woman has to live her life, or live to repent not having lived it.

When each thing is unique in itself, there can be no comparison made.... There is only this strange recognition of present otherness.