Even From Their Infancy We Frame Them

As Soon As Women Become Ours We Are No Longer Theirs.

Painting Myself For Others, I Have Painted My Inward Self With Colors Clearer Than My Original Ones. I Have No More Made My Book Than My Book Has Made Me--a Book Consubstantial With Its Author, Concerned With My Own Self, An Integral Part Of My Life; Not Concerned With Some Third-hand, Extraneous Purpose, Like All Other Books.

Nature Has, Herself, I Fear, Imprinted In Man A Kind Of Instinct To Inhumanity.

I Leaf Through Books, I Do Not Study Them. What I Retain Of Them Is Something I No Longer Recognize As Anyone Else's.

Necessity Reconciles And Brings Men Together; And This Accidental Connection Afterward Forms Itself Into Laws.