"My dad treated me like a boy because he grew up with four brothers. He didn't baby me. He was never, like, "You're a girl, you can't do this." I never felt like I had to put a feminine spin on anything, I just wanted to do what the boys did as good or better."

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The critical sense is so far from frequent that it is absolutely rare, and the possession of the cluster of qualities that minister to it is one of the highest distinctions... In this light one sees the critic as the real helper of the artist, a torchbearing outrider, the interpreter, the brother... Just in proportion as he is sentient and restless, just in proportion as he reacts and reciprocates and penetrates, is the critic a valuable instrument.

— Henry James