I am ready to act, if I can find brave men to help me.

I am always begging them to spare me this chasing after men.

Men get intimidated by me. They feel I am very high-handed and snobbish.

Men project their fantasies onto me; they live them through who they think I am.

I am baffled by men. When they want me, I don't want them; when I want them, they don't want me.

I don't know why my leading men have grey shades. Maybe I am trying to explore that side of me through them.

I am who I am and I don't pretend not to be single or burned. And men might not fancy me because I'm too short or too thin.

Certain men get intimidated and insecure around me. They can never get over the fact that I am taller than they are, but it really shouldn't matter.

Last night, two men tried to force my shutters. I recognized them: they are two of Rodin's Italian models. He told them to kill me. I am in his way; he wants to get rid of me.

Sometimes it leads me even to hesitate whether I am strictly correct in my idea that all men are born to equal rights, for their conduct seems to me to contravene the doctrine.

Let me tell you I am better acquainted with you for a long absence, as men are with themselves for a long affliction: absence does but hold off a friend, to make one see him the truer.

Behold, I am become a reproach to thy holy name, by serving any ambition and the sins of others; which though I did by the persuasion of other men, yet my own conscience did cheek and upbraid me in it.

Now I am near to the getting of my crown, which shall be sure; for I bless the Lord, and desire all of you to bless Him that He hath brought me here, and makes me triumph over devils, and men, and sin: they shall wound me no more.

Share This Page