'Women live like Bats or Owls, labour like Beasts, and die like Worms...'

It is one of the great advantages of being a woman that one can pass even a very fine negress without wishing to make an Englishwoman of her.

Not only do the comparative values of charwomen and lawyers rise and fall from decade to decade, but we have no rods with which to measure them even as they are at the moment.

Women have served all these centuries as looking-glasses possessing the magic and delicious power of reflecting the figure of man at twice its natural size.

Or is anger, I wondered, somehow, the familiar, the attendant sprite on power?

With the exception of the fog he seemed to control everything.