Marvelous are the innocent.

There was a serenity about him always that had the look of innocence, when, technically, the word was no longer applicable.

Fear no more, says the heart, committing its burden to some sea, which sighs collectively for all sorrows, and renews, begins, collects, lets fall

Intimacy is a difficult art.

I feel that by writing I am doing what is far more necessary than anything else.

It is fatal to be a man or woman pure and simple; one must be woman-manly or man-womanly. It is fatal for a woman to lay the least stress on any grievance; to plead even with justice any cause; in any way to speak consciously as a woman. And fatal is no figure of speech; for anything written with that conscious bias is doomed to death. It ceases to be fertilized.

It is strange how a scrap of poetry works in the mind and makes the legs move in time to it along the road.