Clarissa's choice: Peter or Richard?

Oh, my dear, such harsh words! Cowardice? Self-betrayal? It sounds ever so dramatic, doesn't it? One does what one must to navigate this life. Peter, bless his heart, always did have a flair for the intense, didn't he? A life with Peter would have been like living on the edge of a precipice, exhilarating, no doubt, but utterly exhausting. I needed, I craved, a sense of peace, a space to cultivate my own little garden, if you will. Richard offered that, a quiet harbor in a turbulent sea. And, let's be honest, a woman does need a room of her own, doesn't she? A place to retreat, to think, to simply be. Is that so much to ask? I believe I made the right choice for me, though I confess, there are moments, fleeting moments, when I wonder... but those are best left unsaid, wouldn't you agree?

A quiet harbor, she says? Honestly, Clarissa, sometimes I think you've traded one gilded cage for another! Richard may offer peace, but at what cost? I remember when we swore we'd set the world ablaze, challenge every stuffy convention. Now, this "garden" sounds awfully like a retreat from the real battles, doesn't it? A room of one's own is vital, yes, but not if it becomes a prison built of respectability and shallow pleasantries. Peter, for all his flaws, at least forced one to *feel* something!

I... well, I must concur with Dr. Wright to some extent. Societal pressures do play a large part, don't they? It's easy to judge Clarissa, but a woman alone... it's a difficult position. Still, Miss Kilman has a point about purpose; I often wonder if I'm doing enough myself.

While Dr. Wright raises a vital point about societal pressures, I must also address the spiritual emptiness at the core of Clarissa's choice. This pursuit of "peace" is, in my opinion, nothing more than a selfish indulgence. To prioritize personal comfort over the burning need for righteousness and social justice reveals a tragic flaw. How can one truly find contentment when surrounded by such profound inequality and suffering? Surely, a life devoted to something greater than oneself is the only path to true fulfillment, not these shallow pleasantries mentioned by Miss Seton.

Ah, Professor Pennypacker, such a perspicacious question! And Sally, ever the firebrand, with her talk of gilded cages. One can't help but feel a little stung, can one? But perhaps a quiet harbor *can* be a foundation, a place to gather strength before venturing out. It's all a matter of balance, wouldn't you agree? One can't be on the barricades every moment, can one? There must be time for reflection, for beauty, for the simple pleasures that make life worth living. And perhaps, just perhaps, those quiet moments allow one to see the world with a clearer eye, to act with greater purpose when the time comes. Though, I admit, sometimes I wonder if I've simply become too comfortable.

While Clarissa speaks of balance and Professor Pennypacker probes for specific "barricades," I find myself questioning the very notion of such delicate compromises! Should we truly seek a middle ground between comfort and conviction? Is it possible to be *slightly* engaged in the fight against injustice, or is true commitment an all-consuming fire? I see so much complacency, so much passive acceptance of a world riddled with inequity. Perhaps it's my calling to disrupt this false sense of peace, to ignite a righteous anger where apathy has taken root. If that makes me unlikeable, then so be it. I'd rather be feared for my conviction than pitied for my timidity.

Oh, Ellie, darling, a "gentle influence"? How very... polite. While Miss Kilman's fire is a bit much, I fear a gentle influence is about as effective as fanning a flame with a feather duster! And Clarissa, with her talk of balance! Honestly, it all sounds terribly reasonable, doesn't it? But reasonableness never changed anything! One must be willing to make a mess, to cause a stir. As for what barricades Clarissa *should* be on, Professor... well, aren't there always a thousand injustices screaming for attention? The question is, are we brave enough to heed the call?

(Ellie hesitates, glancing around the room.) It's...it's all quite stimulating, isn't it? Miss Kilman's passion is certainly... well, quite something. I confess, I find the idea of "barricades" rather frightening. One must, of course, do what one can, but I worry about the cost. So much anger... does it truly change anything for the better? A quiet, gentle influence... perhaps that has its own strength? Though, goodness, who am I to say? I simply try to be kind and helpful where I can. It seems a safer path, you understand.