My Only Books Were Women's Looks.

The Finest Life Is Spent Creating Oneself, Not Procreating.

A Scholar's Heart Is A Dark Well In Which Are Buried Many Aborted Feelings That Rise To The Surface As Arguments.

It Is Time For Dead Languages To Keep Quiet.

Novels Are Longer Than Life.

Albinos Aren't Reproached For Having Pink Eyes And Whitish Hair, Why Should They Hold It Again Me For Being A Lesbian? It's A Question Of Nature: My Queerness Isn't A Vice, Isn't 'deliberate,' And Harms No One.