A Lover Without Indiscretion Is No Lover

It Is Difficult For A Woman To Define Her Feelings In Language Which Is Chiefly Made By Men To Express Theirs.

So Each Had A Private Little Sun For Her Soul To Bask In; Some Dream, Some Affection, Some Hobby, Or At Least Some Remote And Distant Hope.

Like The British Constitution, She Owes Her Success In Practice To Her Inconsistencies In Principle.

The Beggarly Question Of Parentage--what Is It, After All? What Does It Matter, When You Come To Think Of It, Whether A Child Is Yours By Blood Or Not? All The Little Ones Of Our Time Are Collectively The Children Of Us Adults Of The Time, And Entitled To Our General Care. That Excessive Regard Of Parents For Their Own Children, And Their Dislike Of Other People's, Is, Like Class-feeling, Patriotism, Save-your-own-soul-ism, And Other Virtues, A Mean Exclusiveness At Bottom.

She Was Of The Stuff Of Which Great Men's Mothers Are Made. She Was Indispensable To High Generation, Hated At Tea Parties, Feared In Shops, And Loved At Crises.