“Something primal lurks in me, and I suspect it lurks in every woman. For some, it lies dormant. For others, it has been starved by abuse. For me, it grows stronger every day. I could fight to contain it, but why? It is others who chose to provoke it. Others who poke it with sharp sticks and strike it whenever they please. Why should I deny it the chance to strike back?”
— excerpt from a lost diary (1934), unknown author
“Sometimes love feels like the sun. Other times, not so much. Sometimes love feels like water in your lungs… I miss you. I miss you so much it drowns me.”