Love Is A Game In Which One

Any Man, However Blase Or Depraved, Finds His Love Kindled Anew When He Sees Himself Threatened By A Rival.

A Husband Can Commit No Greater Blunder Than To Discuss His Wife, If She Is Virtuous, With His Mistress; Unless It Be To Mention His Mistress, If She Is Beautiful, To His Wife.

It Is The Mark Of A Great Man That He Puts To Flight All Ordinary Calculations. He Is At Once Sublime And Touching, Childlike And Of The Race Of Giants.

Jealousy, An Eminently Credulous And Suspicious Passion, Allows Fancy The Greatest Possible Play. But It Does Not Bestow Wit, It Banishes All Sense.

It Is Only In The Act Of Nursing That A Woman Realizes Her Motherhood In Visible And Tangible Fashion; It Is A Joy Of Every Moment.