I am a genius. Then it amused me to keep saying so, but now it does not. I expected to be happy sometime. Now I know I shall never be.

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.

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.

Do you think a man is the only creature with whom one may fall in love?

A genius who does not know that he is a genius is no genius.

Are there many things in this cool-hearted world so utterly exquisite as the pure love of one woman for another woman?

I do not sing nor play, but I adore music, particularly Chopin. I like him because I cannot understand him.