“Every truth we see is one to give to the world, not to keep to ourselves alone.”

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.

I decline to accept Hebrew mythology as a guide to twentieth-century science.

I would have girls regard themselves not as adjectives but as nouns.

When we consider that women are treated as property it is degrading to women that we should treat our children as property to be disposed of as we see fit.

Let us not search for the guilty ones only among others, let us speak the bitter truth: we are all guilty each and every one of us.

Poetry is one of the destinies of speech… One would say that the poetic image, in its newness, opens a future to language.

Nursing is one of the Fine Arts: I had almost said, the finest of Fine Arts.

My love had grown one with my soul; it became darker, but did not go out.

In the menu, there should be a climax and a culmination. Come to it gently. One will suffice.

I have always thought the suicide should bump off at least one swine before taking off for parts unknown.

The more constraints one imposes, the more one frees one’s self. And the arbitrariness of the constraint serves only to obtain precision of execution.

The last moments slipped by, one by one, irretrievable.