...in a time lacking in truth and certainty and filled with anguish and despair, no woman should be shamefaced in attempting to give back to the world, through her work, a portion of its lost heart.

What we suffer, what we endure, what we muff, what we kill, what we miss, what we are guilty of, is done by us, as individuals, in private.

Up from the bronze, I saw Water without a flaw Rush to its rest in air Reach to its rest, and fall.

...in a time lacking in truth and certainty and filled with anguish and despair, no woman should be shamefaced in attempting to give back to the world, through her work, a portion of its lost heart.

But childhood prolonged, cannot remain a fairyland. It becomes a hell.

The art of one period cannot be approached through the attitudes (emotional or intellectual) of another.

The fact, and the intuition or logic about the fact, are severe coordinates in fiction. In the short story they must cross with hair-line precision.