And so, Mary MacLane stayed at home and followed a singular ambition: “I wish to write, write, write!”6

Or, in MacLane’s words: “Why shouldn't everybody pose? . . . It is so amusing to pose. Besides, unless you aren’t clever enough to select poses, why ever be yourself to any one? You have a right to yourself for yourself and a few friends. Why should I give myself to you? You are nothing to me.”