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

I was in a queer mood, thinking myself very old: but now I am a woman again - as I always am when I write.

Young women... you are, in my opinion, disgracefully ignorant. You have never made a discovery of any sort of importance. You have never shaken an empire or led an army into battle. The plays by Shakespeare are not by you, and you have never introduced a barbarous race to the blessings of civilization. What is your excuse?

Mental fight means thinking against the current, not with it. It is our business to puncture gas bags and discover seeds of truth.

My brain hums with scraps of poetry and madness.

It is no use trying to sum people up.

Melancholy were the sounds on a winter's night.