meat which my soul loveth, even as much as my Italians. What I demand of men, — that they could act out all their thoughts, — these have. They are lives; — and of such I do not care if they had as many faults as there are days in the year, — there is the energy to redeem them. Do you not admire Lord Herbert’s two poems on life, and the conjectures concerning celestial life? I keep reading them.’
‘When I look at my papers, I feel as if I had never
had a thought that was worthy the attention of any but
myself; and ’tis only when, on talking with people, I
find I tell them what they did not know, that my
confidence at all returns.’
‘My verses, — I am ashamed when I think there is
scarce a line of poetry in them, — all rhetorical and
impassioned, as Goethe said of De Stael. However,
such as they are, they have been overflowing drops
from the somewhat bitter cup of my existence.’
‘How can I ever write with this impatience of detail?
I shall never be an artist; I have no patient love of
execution; I am delighted with my sketch, but if I try
to finish it, I am chilled. Never was there a great
sculptor who did not love to chip the marble.’
‘I have talent and knowledge enough to furnish a
dwelling for friendship, but not enough to deck with
golden gifts a Delphi for the world.’
‘Then a woman of tact and brilliancy, like me, has an
undue advantage in conversation with men. They are
