Perhaps this very instant is your time.

Hate does not present many choices; if hate is your solution, you are fairly certain to hate all phemonena with equal joy and intensity, without troubling to drag into prominence any one feature from the loathsome whole.

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.

Innocence of heart and violence of feeling are necessary in any kind of superior achievement: The arts cannot exist without them.

I don't like quintessential certitude.

Poetry is often generations in advance of the thought of its time.

...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.