If This Was Love, Love

She Had An Immense Curiosity About Life, And Was Constantly Staring And Wondering.

The Only Obligation To Which In Advance We May Hold A Novel, Without Incurring The Accusation Of Being Arbitrary, Is That It Be Interesting.

My Idea Is This, That When You Only Love A Little You're Naturally Not Jealous — Or Are Only Jealous Also A Little, So That It Doesn't Matter. But When You Love In A Deeper And Intenser Way, Then You're In The Very Same Proportion Jealous; Your Jealousy Has Intensity And, No Doubt, Ferocity.

I Hold Any Writer Sufficiently Justified Who Is Himself In Love With His Theme.

The Artist Beholds In Nature More Than She Herself Nature Is Conscious Of.