Just able barely to mount a horse and ride about a little in the spring of 1866, my life was threatened daily, and I was forced to go heavily armed. The whole country was then full of militia, robbing, plundering and killing.
“When I write stories I am like someone who is in her own country, walking along streets that she has known since she was a child, between walls and trees that are hers.”
“I'm just really tiny. People hate me, because I just sit. I'm eating, I'm eating, I'm eating and then I just... sit. And I don't gain a thing.”