Married Women Are Kept Women, And Theyare

I Find A Fascination, Like The Fascination For The Moth Of A Star, In Those Who Hold Aloof And Disdain Me.

How Often My Soul Visits The National Gallery, And How Seldom

I Am One Of The Unpraised, Unrewarded Millions Without Whom Statistics Would Be A Bankrupt Science. It Is We Who Are Born, Who Marry, Who Die, In Constant Ratios.

If They Lost The Incredible Conviction That They Can Change Their Wives Or Husbands, Marriage Would Collapse At Once.

The World Is Not Unkind, And Reprobates Are Worse Than Their Reputations.