It would be a thousand pities if women wrote like men, or lived like men, or looked like men, for if two sexes are quite inadequate, considering the vastness and variety of the world, how should we manage with one only? Ought not education to bring out and fortify the differences rather than the similarities?

I am all the time thinking about poetry and fiction and you.

I want the concentration and the romance, and the worlds all glued together, fused, glowing: have no time to waste any more on prose.

I'm terrified of passive acquiescence. I live in intensity.

And again she felt alone in the presence of her old antagonist, life.

Now begins to rise in me the familiar rhythm; words that have lain dormant now lift, now toss their crests, and fall and rise, and falls again. I am a poet, yes. Surely I am a great poet.

If you do not tell the truth about yourself you cannot tell it about other people.