Hatred Like Love Feeds On The Merest

One Of The Glories Of Society Is To Have Created Woman Where Nature Had Made Only A Female; To Have Created A Continuity Of Desire Where Nature Thought Only Of Perpetuating The Species; And, In Fine, To Have Invented Love.

When Women Love Us, They Forgive Us Everything, Even Our Crimes; When They Do Not Love Us, They Give Us Credit For Nothing, Not Even Our Virtues.

Happiness Lends Poetic Charms To Woman, And Dress Adorns Her Like A Delicate Tinge Of Rouge.

We Must Certainly Acknowledge That Solitude Is A Fine Thing; But It Is A Pleasure To Have Some One Who Can Answer, And To Whom We Can Say, From Time To Time, That Solitude Is A Fine Thing.

Our Greatest Fears Lie In Anticipation.