I Am A Genius. Then It Amused

It Is With Pain That I Read Of The Dire Effects Of My Book Upon The Minds Of Young Girls.

I Have Never Read A Line Of Walt Whitman.

I Can Think Of Nothing In The World Like The Utter Littleness, The Paltriness, The Contemptibleness, The Degradation, Of The Woman Who Is Tied Down Under A Roof With A Man Who Is Really Nothing To Her; Who Wears The Man’s Name, Who Bears The Man’s Children — Who Plays The Virtuous Woman. . . . May I Never, I Say, Become That Abnormal Merciless Animal, That Deformed Monstrosity — A Virtuous Woman.

I Am Lithe, But Fragile From Constant Involuntary Self-analysis.

Let Me But Make A Beginning, Let Me But Strike The World In A Vulnerable Spot, And I Can Take It By Storm.