Realism is death to me. I cannot stand life as it is.

Where I was raised a woman's word was law. I ain't quite outgrowed that yet.

I need this wild life, this freedom.

The difficulty, the ordeal, is to start.

I am full of fire and passion. I am not ready yet for great concentration and passion.

I am tired. My arm aches. My head boils. My feet are cold. But I am not aware of any weakness.

I confess that reading proofs is a pleasure. It stimulates and inspires me.