I have always been in great awe of women, particularly if they are pretty. My sister made me feel uncomfortable when she had girl friends at our home, and when fourteen, I entered the Art Academy, which had only male students, so my entire youth was without the company of girls.

I am always under awful tension when a lady sits for her portrait. I feel I am imposing too much when I ask her to sit this way or that in attempting to get a view that would be more picturesque. So I do not ask these things and my portraits of ladies start very badly. However, if the lady has a natural way of sitting interestingly, not merely plopped onto a seat, I am thrilled to draw her. But I fear my enthusiasm, which would exaggerate her features and displease her. My tendency to monumentalize, hence make more masculine, would be a fatal offence to her marvelous femminity. So I usually refrain from using women in my works. While I have always thought mostly of them as a form of escapism from the trivia of daily life and would rather commit suicide than be without their presence in this world, I furthermore exclude them from my creative deeds, because the subjects I carve or paint often deal with Death and Enslavement of Humanity by the Sneak-Predators, and it is too solemn and grievous a world of my mind's preoccupation to have their adorable company so misused and abused.

At any time, I would rather be in a woman's company than a man's. I have been told by women that I should always have their company, for, socially, I am then at my best, purring with happiness and using my clavicord from one end to the other. I dislike to be charming in men's company, which would make me appear as if I were afflicted with the Anglosex problem, which makes me cramp my style and appear most unfriendly. But ladies, they are my element where I straighten my wings and feel my oats.

One of my pleasures is the kissing of ladies' hands, for it comes nearest to having them, if only for an instant. Though in America. I do this seldom, since there are not many feminine women and I do not kiss women's hands. Women are not ladies. Sex makes women, but graciousness makes ladies. I do not desire women, but I cannot restrain my impulses in the presence of real ladies.

If you back-track your basic motivation of all your desperate efforts to achieve worthy things, your patriotism, your heroic promptings, all, all are triggered by the thought of being admired by women, and particularly by that one. What is behind the struggle for freedom? The hope of being free to fare well, have one's own home, and the luck to have as patron saint the lady you love.