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"One would like to peep covertly into Amy's diary (octavo, with the word
'Amy' in gold letters wandering across the soft brown leather covers, as if it
was a long word and, in Amy's opinion, rather a dear). To take such a liberty,
and allow the reader to look over our shoulders, as they often invite you to do
in novels (which, however, are much more coquettish things than plays) would be
very helpful to us; we should learn at once what sort of girl Amy is, and why
to-day finds her washing her hair. We should also get proof or otherwise, that
we are interpreting her aright; for it is our desire not to record our feelings
about Amy, but merely Amy's feelings about herself; not to tell what we think
happened, but what Amy thought happened. The book, to be sure, is padlocked, but
we happen to know where it is kept. (In the lower drawer of that hand-painted
escritoire.) Sometimes in the night Amy, waking up, wonders whether she did lock
her diary, and steals downstairs in white to make sure."
- Excerpted from "Alice Sit-By-The-Fire"