More than anything, I began to hate women writers. Frances Burney, Jane Austen, Elizabeth Browning, Mary Shelley, George Eliot, Virginia Woolf. Bronte, Bronte, and Bronte. I began to resent Emily, Ann...
Earth is crammed with heaven, and every bush is aflame with the glory of God. But only those who see take of their shoes; the rest just pick the berries.