I Have Met A Thousand Scamps; But

When You Talk Yourself, You Think How Witty, How Original, How Acute You Are; But When Another Does So, You Are Very Apt To Think Only - What A Crib From Rochefoucauld!

Histories In Blazonry And Poems In Stone.

If All Feeling For Grace And Beauty Were Not Extinguished In The Mass Of Mankind At The Actual Moment, Such A Method Of Locomotion As Cycling Could Never Have Found Acceptance; No Man Or Woman With The Slightest Aesthetic Sense Could Assume The Ludicrous Position Necessary For It.

Who Has Passed By The Fates Of Disillusion Has Died Twice.

Woman Already Controls By Not Seeming To Do So. Talk No More Of Her Rights.