Women Seldom Forfeit Their Claims To Respect

At The Best, Sarcasms, Bitter Irony, Scathing Wit, Are A Sort Of Swordplay Of The Mind. You Pink Your Adversary, And He Is Forthwith Dead; And Then You Deserve To Be Hung For It.

As Many Suffer From Too Much As Too Little.

A Woman's Love, Like Lichens Upon A Rock, Will Still Grow Where Even Charity Can Find No Soil To Nurture Itself.

To Cultivate A Garden Is To Walk With God.

Adhesion To One Idea Is Monomania; To Few, Slavery.