Some people say that beauty is a curse. It may be true, but I'm sure I should not have at all minded being cursed a little.

People say of me, 'She's peculiar.' They do not understand me. If they did they would say so oftener and with emphasis.

I read of the Kalamazoo girl who killed herself after reading the book. I am not at all surprised. She lived in Kalamazoo, for one thing, and then she read the book.

It is with pain that I read of the dire effects of my book upon the minds of young girls.

When I wrote my book I wanted to love someone. I wanted to be in love. Now I know that I shall never be in love - and I no longer wish to be.

I am lithe, but fragile from constant involuntary self-analysis.

May I never, I say, become that abnormal, merciless animal, that deformed monstrosity - a virtuous woman.