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“May 1908

May 1908.

“I have just finished reading a book by Elizabeth Robins Come and Find me. Really a clever, splendid book; it creates in me such a sense of power. I feel that I do not realise what women in the future will be capable of achieving—They truly, as yet, have never had their chance. Talk of our enlightened days and our emancipated country—pure nonsense. We are firmly held in self-fashioned chains of slavery yet. Now I see that they are self-fashioned and must be self-removed. Eh bien! Now where is my ideal and idea of life? Does Oscar—and there is a gardenia yet alive beside my bed—Does Oscar still keep so firm a stronghold in my soul? No! Because now I am growing capable of seeing a wider vision—a little Oscar—a little Symons—a little Ibsen—Tolstoy—Elizabeth Robins—Shaw—D'Annunzio—Meredith. To weave the intricate tapestry of one's own life—it is well to take a thread from many harmonious skeins and realise there must be harmony. Not necessary to grow the sheep, comb the wool, colour and braid it—But joyfully take all that is ready—and with that saved time go a great way further.
“Independence, resolve, firm purpose and the gift of discrimination makes mental clearness. Here are the inevitables. Again—Will—the realisation that Art is absolutely self-development—The knowledge that page 311 genius is dormant in every soul—that that very individuality which is at the root of our being—is what matters so poignantly.”