The older women were Sunbeams and I guess we were Cherubs or Lambs, but our mothers were Nightingales.

By jove, no wonder women don't love war nor understand it, nor can operate in it as a rule; it takes a man to suffer what other men have invented . . .

I act as a sponge. I soak it up and squeeze it out in ink every two weeks.

She was built for crowds. She has never come any closer to life than the dinner table.

Women have invented nothing in all that, except the men who were born as male babies and grew up to be men big enough to be killed fighting.

Isadore [Duncan], who had an un-American genius for art, for organizing love, maternity, politics and pedagogy on a great personal scale, had also an un-American genius for grandeur.