It Is Not The End Of Joy

The Heart Needs Not For Its Heaven Much Space, Nor Many Stars Therein, If Only The Star Of Love Has Arisen.

Love Lessens Woman's Delicacy And Increases Man's.

Romanticism Is Beauty Without Bounds-the Beautiful Infinite.

A Woman Who Could Always Love Would Never Grow Old; And The Love Of Mother And Wife Would Often Give Or Preserve Many Charms If It Were Not Too Often Combined With Parental And Conjugal Anger. There Remains In The Face Of Women Who Are Naturally Serene And Peaceful, And Of Those Rendered So By Religion, An After-spring, And Later An After-summer, The Reflex Of Their Most Beautiful Bloom.

Whenever, At A Party, I Have Been In The Mood To Study Fools, I Have Always Looked For A Great Beauty: They Always Gather Round Her Like Flies Around A Fruit Stall.