The world wavered and quivered and threatened to burst into flames.

Have you any notion how many books are written about women in the course of one year? Have you any notion how many are written by men? Are you aware that you are, perhaps, the most discussed animal in the universe?

But the close withdrew: the hand softened. It was over-- the moment.

There is no room for the impurities of literature in an essay.

Peter would think her sentimental. So she was. For she had come to feel that it was the only thing worth saying – what one felt. Cleverness was silly. One must say simply what one felt.

For there is a virtue in truth; it has an almost mystic power. Like radium, it seems to give off forever and ever grains of energy, atoms of light.

I am writing to a rhythm and not to a plot.