She was nervous about the future; it made her indelicate. She was one of the most unimportantly wicked women of her time --because she could not let her time alone, and yet could never be a part of it. She wanted to be the reason for everything and so was the cause of nothing. She had the fluency of tongue and action meted out by divine providence to those who cannot think for themselves. She was the master of the over-sweet phrase, the over-tight embrace.

A man is whole only when he takes into account his shadow.

Life, the permission to know death.

The very condition of Woman is so subject to Hazard, so complex, and so grievous, that to place her at one moment is but to displace her at the next.

God, children know something they can't tell; they like Red Riding Hood and the wolf in bed!

Destiny and history are untidy.

We are but skin about a wind, with muscles clenched against mortality.