In Her Single Person She

In Her Abhorrrence Of A Vacuum, Nature, For The Furtherance Of Her Favorite Hobby, Has Often To Resort To Strange Devices. If She Could But Understand That Vacuity Is Sometimes Better Than Superfluity!

So Long As One Is Able To Pose One Has Still Much To Learn About Suffering.

Yes, I Learned Long Ago That The Only Satisfaction Of Authorship Lies In Finding The Very Few Who Understand What We Mean. As For Outside Rewards, There Is Not One That I Have Ever Discovered.

Surely The Novel Should Be A Form Of Art - But Art Was Not Enough. It Must Contain Not Only The Perfection Of Art, But The Imperfection Of Nature.

The Transcendental Point Of View, The Habit Of Thought Bred By Communion With Earth And Sky, Had Refined The Grain While It Had Roughened The Husk.