Rare is he who will concede genius.

... privation is the source of appetite.

I don't study to know more, but to ignore less.

As love is union, it knows no extremes of distance.

Aristotle could have known so much more if he cooked.

One can perfectly well philosophize while cooking supper.

O who is more to blame: He who sins for pay - Or he who pays for sin?

In loss itself I find assuagement: having lost the treasure, I've nothing to fear.

I walk beneath your pens, and am not what I truly am, but what you'd prefer to imagine me.

In my opinion, better far it be To destroy vanity within my life Than to destroy my life in vanity.

Must I dwell in slavery's night And all pleasure take its flight Far beyond my feeble sight, Forever?

I believed, when I entered this convent, I was escaping from myself, but alas, poor me, I brought myself with me!

Everything that you receive is not measured according to its actual size, but, rather that of the receiving vessel.

The greater evil who is in- When both in wayward paths are straying? The poor sinner for the pain Or he who pays for the sin?

And what shall I tell you, lady, of the natural secrets I have discovered while cooking? And I often say, when observing these details: had Aristotle prepared victuals, he would have written more.

One will abide, and will confess that another is nobler than he, that another is richer, more handsome, and even that he is more learned, but that another is richer in reason scarcely any will confess: Rare is he who will concede genius.

Who has forbidden women to engage in private and individual studies? Have they not a rational soul as men do?...I have this inclination to study and if it is evil I am not the one who formed me thus - I was born with it and with it I shall die.

But, lady, as women, what wisdom may be ours if not the philosophies of the kitchen? Lupercio Leonardo spoke well when he said: 'how well one may philosophize when preparing dinner.' And I often say, when observing these trivial details: had Aristotle prepared vituals [sic], he would have written more.

I was not yet three years old when my mother determined to send one of my elder sisters to learn to read at a school for girls we call the Amigas. Affection, and mischief, caused me to follow her, and when I observed how she was being taught her lessons I was so inflamed with the desire to know how to read, that deceiving - for so I knew it to be - the mistress, I told her that my mother had meant for me to have lessons too. ... I learned so quickly that before my mother knew of it I could already read.

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