Jealousy Is Not At All Low, But

A Woman Who Thinks She Is Intelligent Demands The Same Rights As Man. An Intelligent Woman Gives Up.

It's So Curious: One Can Resist Tears And 'behave' Very Well In The Hardest Hours Of Grief. But Then Someone Makes You A Friendly Sign Behind A Window, Or One Notices That A Flower That Was In Bud Only Yesterday Has Suddenly Blossomed, Or A Letter Slips From A Drawer... And Everything Collapses.

To Write Is To Pour One’s Innermost Self Passionately Upon The Tempting Paper, At Such Frantic Speed That Sometimes One’s Hand Struggles And Rebels, Overdriven By The Impatient God Which Guides It - And To Find, Next Day, In Place Of The Golden Bough That Bloomed Miraculously In That Dazzling Hour, A Withered Bramble And A Stunted Flower.

Perhaps The Only Misplaced Curiosity Is That Which Persists In Trying To Find Out Here, On This Side Of Death, What Lies Beyond The Grave.

So Now, Whenever I Despair, I No Longer Expect My End, But Some Bit Of Luck, Some Commonplace Little Miracle Which, Like A Glittering Link, Will Mend Again The Necklace Of My Days.