There can be no doubt, I thought, pushing aside the newspaper, that our mean lives, unsightly as they are, put on splendour and have meaning only under the eyes of love

“Why are women... so much more interesting to men than men are to women?”

“The spring without a leaf to toss, bare and bright like a virgin fierce in her …”

“Would there be trees if we didn't see them?”

“Women and fiction remain, so far as I am concerned, unsolved problems.”