I am in the mood to dissolve in the sky.

I got out this diary, & read as one always does read one's own writing, with a kind of guilty intensity.

Women have served all these centuries as looking glasses possessing the power of reflecting the figure of man at twice its natural size.

Anything may happen when womanhood has ceased to be a protected occupation.

There is no room for the impurities of literature in an essay.... the essay must be pure--pure like water or pure like wine, but pure from dullness, deadness, and deposits of extraneous matter.

Doesn't one always think of the past, in a garden with men and women lying under the trees? Aren't they one's past, all that remains of it, those men and women, those ghosts lying under the trees ... one's happiness, one's reality?

Life's bare as a bone.