Alice James was an American diarist who used to pen down her thoughts and her life events. During her times, ‘Hysteria’ was the most conventional diagnosis for females. Her diary reveals that she was suffering from suicidal and homicidal condition. She tried therapeutic exercise and electric massage to treat herself but she suffered recurring bouts of the illness till her last breath. She started working as teacher and taught history at the ‘Society to Entourage Studies’. After teaching for almost three years she quit and started writing diary. This dairy mostly consisted of witty comments, events from her life, and about the English lifestyle and manners. Later in the year 1934, a sub-standard edited version of the diary was published. Right after thirty years ‘Leon Edel’ published a much better version of her diary. This dairy then crowned James as a feminist icon who was struggling through her illness and was unable to voice out. Read through the thoughts and views of Alice James which have been excerpted from her writings, diaries and life. Have a look at the quotes and thoughts by Alice James that will give you a glimpse of her struggle and life.
Destitution and excessive luxury develop apparently the same ideals, the same marauding attitude towards mankind, the intensity of struggle for material goods, -- surely showing how perfect is the meeting of extremes.
When will women begin to have the first glimmer that above all other loyalties is the loyalty toTruth, i.e., to yourself, that husband, children, friends and countryare as nothing to that.
I think that if I get into the habit of writing a bit about what happens, or rather doesn't happen, I may lose a little of the sense of isolation and desolation which abides with me. My circumstances allowing of nothing but the ejaculation of one-syllabled reflections, a written monologue by that most interesting being, myself, may have its yet to be discovered consolations.
I wonder, whether, if I had had any education I should have been more, or less, of a fool than I am. It would have deprived me surely of those exquisite moments of mental flatulence which every now and then inflate the cerebral vacuum with a delicious sense of latent possibilities-of stretching oneself to cosmic limits, and who would ever give up the reality of dreams for relative knowledge?
If I can get on to my sofa and occupy myself for four hours, at intervals through the day, scribbling my notes, and able to read the books that belong to me, in that they clarify the density, and shape the formless mass within, life seems inconceivably rich...
Notwithstanding the poverty of my outside experience, I have always had a significance for myself, and every chance to stumle along my straight and narrow little path, and to worship at the feet of my Deity, and what more can a human soul ask for?