The Very Condition Of Woman Is So

“god,” She Cried, “what Is Love? Man Seeking His Own Head? The Human Head, So Rented By Misery That Even The Teeth Weigh! She Couldn't Tell Me The Truth Because She Had Never Planned It; Her Life Was A Continual Accident, And How Can You Be Prepared For That? Everything We Can't Bear In This World, Some Day We Find In One Person, And Love It All At Once.”

None Of Us Suffers As Much As We Should, Or Loves As Much As We Say. Love Is The First Lie; Wisdom The Last.

There Is Always More Surface To A Shattered Object Than A Whole.

One Must Not Look Inward Too Much, While The Inside Is Yet Tender. I Do Not Wish To Frighten Myself Until I Can Stand It.

One's Life Is Peculiar To One's Own When One Has Invented It.