My brain hums with scraps of poetry and madness.

Speech is an old torn net, through which the fish escape as one casts it over them.

Wat a vast fertility of pleasure books hold for me! I went in and found the table laden with books. I looked in and sniffed them all. I could not resist carrying this one off and broaching it. I think I could happily live here and read forever.

I will not be "famous," "great." I will go on adventuring, changing, opening my mind and my eyes, refusing to be stamped and stereotyped. The thing is to free one's self: to let it find its dimensions, not be impeded.

It would have been impossible, completely and entirely, for any woman to have written the plays of Shakespeare in the age of Shakespeare.

After that, how unbelievable death was! - that is must end; and no one in the whole world would know how she had loved it all.

Habits and customs are a convenience devised for the support of timid natures who dare not allow their souls free play.