I found that fantastic extract in The Crimson Petal and The White. This is supposed to be a medical pamphlet the main character, Sugar, finds in the public library's reading room (in 1875). This reminds me of why I am who I am. I am not "healthy wife material", THANKFULLY!
No woman can be a serious thinker, without injury to her function as the conceiver and mother of children. Too often, the female "intellectual" is a youthful invalid or virtual hermaphrodite, who might otherwise have been a healthy wife.
Oh, and another one:
There is no more sombre enemy of good art than the pram in the hall.
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I think therefore I write.
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