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Genius, apart from natural sensitiveness, is prone equally to unreasoning joy and to bitterest morbidness.

Mary MacLane

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Mary MacLane
Age: 48 †
Born: 1881
Born: May 1
Died: 1929
Died: August 6
Film Actor
Historian
Memoirist
Writer
Winnipeg
Manitoba
Bitterest
Prone
Equally
Apart
Genius
Joy
Natural
Unreasoning
Sensitiveness

More quotes by Mary MacLane

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Do you think a man is the only creature with whom one may fall in love?
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A genius who does not know that he is a genius is no genius.
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I am lithe, but fragile from constant involuntary self-analysis.
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I began to be a woman at twelve, or more properly, a genius.
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I want to live quietly.
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I have read of women who have been strongly, grandly brave. Sometimes I have dreamed that I might be brave. The possibilities of this life are magnificent.
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One's thoughts are one's most crucial adventures. Seriously and strongly and intently to contemplate doing murder is everyway more exciting, more romantic, more profoundly tragic than the murder done.
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I do not see any beauty in self-restraint.
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People say of me, 'She's peculiar.' They do not understand me. If they did they would say so oftener and with emphasis.
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However great one's gift of language may be, there is always something that one cannot tell.
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Some day the Devil will come to me and say: 'Come with me.'And I will answer: 'Yes.
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There is really no right and wrong. I recognize no right and wrong.
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I read of the Kalamazoo girl who killed herself after reading the book. I am not at all surprised. She lived in Kalamazoo, for one thing, and then she read the book.
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Well, if I am not vulgar, neither is my book. I wrote myself. Suggestiveness is always vulgar. But truth never. My book is not even remotely suggestive. I call things by their names. That is all.
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You may think me crude, and probably I am crude, but I am not so crude as I was, for I am clever enough to see that the girl of nineteen who thought herself a genius was only an unusual girl writing her heart out.
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Except two breeds - the stupid and the narrowly feline - all women have a touch of the Lesbian: an assertion all good non-analytic creatures refute with horror, but quite true: there is always the poignant intensive personal taste, the flair of inner-sex, in the tenderest friendships of women.
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I never give my real self. I have a hundred sides, and I turn first one way and then the other. I am playing a deep game. I have a number of strong cards up my sleeve. I have never been myself, excepting to two friends.
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I've never made plans for more than a day ahead.
Mary MacLane
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I am not good. I am not virtuous. I am not sympathetic. I am not generous. I am merely and above all a creature of intense passionate feeling. I feel—everything. It is my genius. It burns me like fire.
Mary MacLane
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Genius of a kind has always been with me an empty heart that has taken on a certain wooden quality an excellent, strong woman's body and a pitiably starved soul.
Mary MacLane