I would build a cloudy House For my thoughts to live in; When for earth too fancy-loose And too low for Heaven! Hush! I talk my dream aloud - I build it bright to see, - I build it on the moonlit cloud, To which I looked with thee.

Suddenly, as rare things will, it vanished.

Like to write? Of course, of course I do. I seem to live while I write - it is life, for me.

His ears were often the first thing to catch my tears.

Most illogical Irrational nature of our womanhood, That blushes one way, feels another way, And prays, perhaps another!

We can't separate our humanity from our poetry.

I would confide to you perhaps my secret profession of faith - which is ... which is ... that let us say and do what we please and can ... there is a natural inferiority of mind in women - of the intellect ... not by any means, of the moral nature - and that the history of Art and of genius testifies to this fact openly.