My ideas had been taking a socialistic shape for many years; but they were lacking in definite outline.

The other thing that happened in 1883 was my reading of Thoreau's Walden.

Anyone who realises what Love is, the dedication of the heart, so profound, so absorbing, so mysterious, so imperative, and always just in the noblest natures so strong, cannot fail to see how difficult, how tragic even, must often be the fate of those whose deepest feelings are destined from the earliest days to be a riddle and a stumbling-block, unexplained to themselves, passed over in silence by others.

My ideas had been taking a socialistic shape for many years; but they were lacking in definite outline.

Remember, the serpent is still living in the Garden of Eden. Only the heterosexual couple was expelled.

Motherhood is, after all, woman's great and incomparable work.

With my somewhat vague aspiring mind, to be imprisoned in the rude details of a most material life was often irksome.