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

Genius, apart from natural sensitiveness, is prone equally to unreasoning joy and to bitterest morbidness.

When I was three years old I was taken with my family to a little town in Western Minnesota, where I lived a more or less vapid and ordinary life until I was ten.

I want to live quietly.

But in my life, in my personality, there is an essence of falseness and insincerity. A thin, fine vapor of fraud hangs always over me and dampens and injures some things in me that I value.

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 would rather be a fairly happy wife and mother.