I would give up my life for my children, but not myself.

It was not despair, but it seemed to her as if life were passing by, leaving its promises broken and unfulfilled. Yet there were other days when she listened, was led on and deceived by fresh promises which her youth had held out to her.

A bird with a broken wing was beating the air above, reeling, fluttering, circling disabled, down, down to the water

She's got some sort of notion in her head concerning the eternal rights of women.

I don't mind walking. I always feel so sorry for women who don't like to walk; they miss so much--so many rare little glimpses of life; and we women learn so little of life on the whole.

The city atmosphere certainly has improved her. Some way she doesn't seem like the same woman.

But the beginning of things, of a world especially, is necessarily vague, tangled, chaotic, and exceedingly disturbing. How few of us ever emerge from such beginning! How many souls perish in its tumult!