The history of most women is hidden either by silence, or by flourishes and ornaments that amount to silence.

Surely it was time someone invented a new plot, or that the author came out from the bushes.

Life would split apart without letters.

madam," the man cried, leaping to the ground, "you're hurt!" "I'm dead, sir!" she replied. A few minutes later, they became engaged.

One has to secrete a jelly in which to slip quotations down people's throats - and one always secretes too much jelly.

In the 18th century we knew how everything was done, but here I rise through the air, I listen to voices in America, I see men flying- but how is it done? I can't even begin to wonder. So my belief in magic returns.

Women alone stir my imagination.