A room of one's own isn't nearly enough. A house, or, best, an island of one's own.
But maybe half a lie is worse than a real lie.
Lonely. I always thought loneliness meant alone, without people. It means something else.
People change and forget to tell each other.
A theme is always necessary, a plain, simple, unadorned theme to confuse the ignorant.
Nobody knows what you want except you, and no one will be as sorry as you if you don't get it.