I'm Perfectly Miserable; But If You Consider

Well, I Am Happy, And I Won't Fret, But It Does Seem As If The More One Gets The More One Wants.

Self-pity In Its Early Stages Is As Snug As A Feather Mattress. Only When It Hardens Does It Become Uncomfortable.

I Was Thinking What A Curious Thing Love Is; Only A Sentiment, And Yet It Has Power To Make Fools Of Men And Slaves Of Women.

The Humblest Tasks Get Beautified If Loving Hands Do Them.

No Woman Should Give Her Happiness Into The Keeping Of A Man Without Fixed Principles.