"So I went ahead and made me a guitar. Igot me a cigar box, I cut me a round hole in the middle of it, takeme a little piece of plank, nailed it onto that cigar box, and I gotme some screen wire and I made me a bridge back there and raised itup high enough that it would sound inside that little box, and got mea tune out of it. I kept my tune and I played from then on."

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A man with a talent does what is expected of him, makes his way, constructs, is an engineer, a composer, a builder of bridges. It's the natural order of things that he construct objects outside himself and his family. The woman who does so is aberrant. We have to expiate for this cursed talent someone handed out to us, by mistake, in the black mystery of genetics.

— May Sarton