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I have written to please myself. It has not mattered much what anyone else thought. I have always tried to catch and express a little of the immortal beauty and enchantment of the world into which I have sometimes been privileged to see for a moment — the moment of “Emily’s” “flash.”
Forty years ago I was a very young girl with little worldly wisdom or experience. But I knew how to do one thing — I knew how to choose friends. I made no mistake about that.
We went down to “spend the afternoon” with Minnie. I do like that old phrase. it sounds so deliciously extravagant and luxurious to “spend” a whole afternoon!
On PAT OF SILVER BUSH:
If I had not found it so hard to get time for it I would have loved writing Pat. It has a setting after my own heart and “Pat” is more myself than any of my heroines.
I got the last chapter of Pat II done. Such a relief! I thought so many times this fall I should never get it done. I never wrote a book in such agony of mind before.
Jealously and stupidity really do most of the harm that is done in the world.
There is a curious impersonality about a house that has never been lived in. It has no memories, no traditions, no ghosts. It seems to be asking for a soul.
I received word today that I have been elected a member of “The Literary and Artistic Institute of France!!!
I wish the honor would cure my sciatica, banish neurasthenia, and take away all the bruises of my soul and spirit!
Snow is April is abominable — like a slap in the face when you expected a kiss.