My mother had four children. Perhaps by a system of coercion and education she might have turned us into practical citizens, and sometimes she lamented, “Why must all four be artists and not one practical?” But it was her own beautiful and restless spirit that made us artists. (26)
From Duncan, Isadora. Isadora: The Autobiography of Isadora Duncan. New York: Award Books, 1968. Print.
It was only to be expected that after a year or two Flinksy would have saved enough to buy some new clothes, and the natural consequence of being in style, or at least not altogether drab and shabby, was that she should start going out in the evening a little more. This was the period during which she was given the name Flinksy (“Wild One”), as pathetically undeserved a nickname as ever a sober-minded young puritan female was saddled with; but in our fiercely critical and self-righteous family, any little outburst of sociability or romance was always pounced on and rudely labelled by one or other of us as a major fault of character. (64-65)
From Janes, Percy. House of Hate. Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1970. Print.