There Is Even The Dignity Of Vice.

Women Read Each Other At A Single Glance.

Man Spends His Life In Reasoning On The Past, In Complaining Of The Present, In Fearing Future.

Reason Is An Historian, But The Passions Are Actors.

To Be Ungrateful Is To Be Unnatural. The Head May Be Thus Guilty, Not The Heart.

The Subtle Sauce Of Malice Is Often Indulged In By Maidens Of Uncertain Age, Over Their Tea.