Thus Mr. Lawrence, Mr. Douglas and Mr. Joyce partly spoil their books for women readers by their display of self-conscious virility; and Mr. Hemingway, but much less violently, follows suit.

There was no freedom in life, and certainly there was none in death.

We live in constant danger of coming apart. The mystery of why we do not always come apart is the animating tension of all art.

To admit authorities, however heavily furred and gowned, into our libraries and let them tell us how to read, what to read, what value to place upon what we read, is to destroy the spirit of freedom which is the breath of those sanctuaries.

Disastrous would have been the result if a fire or a death had suddenly demanded something heroic of human nature, but tragedies come in the hungry hours.

Long ago I realized that no other person would be to me what you are.

There is no doubt in my mind, that I have found out how to begin (at 40) to say something in my own voice.