Nothing Is More Trying Than

I Would Write Of The Universal, Not The Provincial, In Human Nature.... I Would Write Of Characters, Not Of Characteristics.

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.

Energy Had Fastened Upon Her Like A Disease.

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.

Preserve, Within A Wild Sanctuary, An Inaccessible Valley Of Reverie.