My help had been needed and claimed; I had given it: I was pleased to have done something: trivial, transitory though the deed was, it was yet an act… - Charlotte Brontë

It seemed as if my tongue pronounced words without my will consenting to their utterance: something spoke out of me over which I had no control.

But this I know; the writer who possesses the creative gift owns something of which he is not always master — something that at times strangely wills and works for itself. He may lay down rules and devise principles, and to rules and principles it will perhaps for years lie in subjection; and then, haply without any warning of revolt, there comes a time when it will no longer consent.

Conventionality is not morality. Self-righteousness is not religion.