Toil, Says The Proverb, Is The Sire

Silence And Chaste Reserve Is Woman's Genuine Praise, And To Remain Quiet Within The House.

To A Father Waxing Old, Nothing Is Dearer Than A Daughter; Sons Have Spirits Of A Higher Pitch, But Less Inclined To Endearing Fondness.

If I Could Remake The World, I'd Banish Women, Send Them Away With All Their Trouble. Then Children Would Come From A Purer Source.

Love Must Not Touch The Marrow Of The Soul. Our Affections Must Be Breakable Chains That We Can Cast Them Off Or Tighten Them.

Surely Again, To Heal Men's Wounds By Music's Spell.