And I Must Bear What

Or From Browning Some "pomegranate," Which If Cut Deep Down The Middle Shows A Heart Within Blood-tinctured, Of A Veined Humanity.

And Marlowe, Webster, Fletcher, Ben, Whose Fire-hearts Sowed Our Furrows When The World Was Worthy Of Such Men.

Of Writing Many Books There Is No End; And I Who Have Written Much In Prose And Verse For Others' Uses, Will Write Now For Mine,- Will Write My Story For My Better Self, As When You Paint Your Portrait For A Friend, Who Keeps It In A Drawer And Looks At It Long After He Has Ceased To Love You, Just To Hold Together What He Was And Is.

I Would Confide To You Perhaps My Secret Profession Of Faith - Which Is ... Which Is ... That Let Us Say And Do What We Please And Can ... There Is A Natural Inferiority Of Mind In Women - Of The Intellect ... Not By Any Means, Of The Moral Nature - And That The History Of Art And Of Genius Testifies To This Fact Openly.

Truth Outlives Pain, As The Soul Does Life.