Talented People Almost Always Know

Good-night, My-" He Stopped, Bit His Lip, And Abruptly Left Me.

Is Not The Real Experience Of Each Individual Very Limited? And, If A Writer Dwells Upon That Solely Or Principally, Is He Not In Danger Of Repeating Himself, And Also Of Becoming An Egotist? Then, Too, Imagination Is A Strong, Restless Faculty, Which Claims To Be Heard And Exercised: Are We To Be Quite Deaf To Her Cry, And Insensate To Her Struggles? When She Shows Us Bright Pictures, Are We Never To Look At Them, And Try To Reproduce Them? And When She Is Eloquent, And Speaks Rapidly And Urgently In Our Ear, Are We Not To Write To Her Dictation?

To You I Am Neither Man Nor Woman. I Come Before You As An Author Only. It Is The Sole Standard By Which You Have A Right To Judge Me--the Sole Ground On Which I Accept Your Judgment.

If Life Be A War, It Seemed My Destiny To Conduct It Single-handed.

The Negation Of Severe Suffering Was The Nearest Approach To Happiness I Expected To Know. Besides, I Seemed To Hold Two Lives - The Life Of Thought, And That Of Reality.