“My religious superstition gave place to rational ideas based on scientific facts, and in proportion as I looked at everything from a new standpoint, I grew more happy day by day.”

Men as a general rule have very little reverence for trees.

You may go over the world and you will find that every form of religion which has breathed upon this earth has degraded woman.

The history of mankind is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations on the part of man toward woman.

I shall not grow conservative with age.

Eve tasted the apple in the Garden of Eden in order to slake that intense thirst for knowledge that the simple pleasure of picking flowers and talking to Adam could not satisfy.

Woman has been the great unpaid laborer of the world.

Out of the doctrine of original sin grew the crimes and miseries of asceticism, celibacy and witchcraft; woman becoming the helpless victim of all these delusions.

There must be a remedy even for such a crying evil as this [abortion]. But where shall it be found, at least where begin, if not in the complete enfranchisement and elevation of women?

The heyday of woman’s life is the shady side of fifty.

Truth is the only safe ground to stand on.

All the men of the Old Testament were polygamists, and Christ and Paul, the central figures of the New Testament, were celibates, and condemned marriage by both precept and example.

The history of the past is but one long struggle upward to equality.

Surely the immutable laws of the universe can teach more impressive and exalted lessons than the holy books of all the religions on earth.

We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men and women are created equal.

I think if women would indulge more freely in vituperation, they would enjoy ten times the health they do. It seems to me they are suffering from repression.

Love is the vital essence that pervades and permeates, from the center to the circumference, the graduating circles of all thought and action. Love is the talisman of human weal and woe -the open sesame to every soul.

We dream of roses and grow like weeds.

And now you are the butterfly finally free.

I am more stretch marks than the skin, more growth than shame.

With storms come growth.

Though I crave roots grown deep, the truth is I’m something of a wanderer.

In all the ways I have grown I wish I didn’t grow away from you.

When you honor your emotions you are honoring your healing and growth.

You don’t need him. Bloom baby, bloom.