I need not hate any man; he cannot hurt me. I need not flatter any man; he has nothing to give me.

So fine was the morning except for a streak of wind here and there that the sea and sky looked all one fabric, as if sails were stuck high up in the sky, or the clouds had dropped down into the sea.

Her life-that was the only chance she had-the short season between two silences.

Why are women... so much more interesting to men than men are to women?

Let us record the atoms as they fall upon the mind in the order in which they fall.

She fell into a deep pool of sticky water, which eventually closed over her head. She saw nothing and heard nothing but a faint booming sound, which was the sound of the sea rolling over her head. While all her tormentors thought that she was dead, she was not dead, but curled up at the bottom of the sea.

We are the words; we are the music; we are the thing itself.