Her excellence as mortal creature had been brought to the proof. If her desire was Jack’s command, if he did what she wanted, showing thereby that he loved her, she had reality; she was a functioning substantiality with province and sway. Woman’s meridian does not occur, like a butte. It is man-made, like a pyramid. She did not study all this out, but neither does the Carpenter Bee take a pencil out from behind his ear and sit down with his legs crossed and figure out how many beeswax partitions he is going to need in his tunnel. She only knew that unless Jack got rid of the dynamite she was null and void, a nobody, made out of moonshine.
--From Marry Me, Carry Me