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cannot believe that human nature will ever arrive at the point she would bare it with the passion between the two two sexes put so far into the background. She would have every other passion cultivated, it seems, "renewal" being a favorite word with her Passion for music, flowers, truth, medicine & what not [[underlined]] excepting [[/underlined]] that particular passion, she consequently condemns the French who put that passion first, instead of last.

I cannot think it is right to say that never under any circumstances should one pardon one kind of fault in a man's, or woman's, past.

The trouble with this high moral business is that it cuts out of existence at one fell swoop two thirds of everything that is most inspiring & beautiful in the treasures left us by

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past life.

The fact is we are all born to disaster. If a novel hasn't a disaster, mild or otherwise in it, we may as well chuck it away as lifeless. It is really astonishing when one thinks of the people crowding year after year to hear Faust for instance played, or sung.