I have read of women who have been strongly, grandly brave. Sometimes I have dreamed that I might be brave. The possibilities of this life are magnificent.

You may think me crude, and probably I am crude, but I am not so crude as I was, for I am clever enough to see that the girl of nineteen who thought herself a genius was only an unusual girl writing her heart out.

Well, if I am not vulgar, neither is my book. I wrote myself. Suggestiveness is always vulgar. But truth never. My book is not even remotely suggestive. I call things by their names. That is all.

I began to be a woman at twelve, or more properly, a genius.

I would rather be a fairly happy wife and mother.

The art of Good Eating has two essential points: one must eat only when one is hungry, and one must take small bites.

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