My own brain is to me the most unaccountable of machinery—always buzzing, humming, soaring roaring diving, and then buried in mud. And why? What's this passion for?
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"I am a great admirer of the male sex."
"A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction."
"I am reading myself into a state of imbecility."
"I have a great mind to write a book about the horrors of marriage."
"I have no taste for life."
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