Men Ruin Themselves Headlong For Unworthy Women.

If I Ever Meet With The Man Who Fulfills My Ideal, I Shall Make It A Condition Of The Marriage Settlement, That I Am To Have Chocolate Under The Pillow.

I Am A Citizen Of The World, And I Have Met, In My Time, With So Many Different Sorts Of Virtue, That I Am Puzzled, In My Old Age, To Say Which Is The Right Sort And Which Is The Wrong.

The Woman Who First Gives Life, Light, And Form To Our Shadowy Conceptions Of Beauty, Fills A Void In Our Spiritual Nature That Has Remained Unknown To Us Till She Appeared. Sympathies That Lie Too Deep For Words, Too Deep Almost For Thoughts, Are Touched, At Such Times, By Other Charms Than Those Which The Senses Feel And Which The Resources Of Expression Can Realise. The Mystery Which Underlies The Beauty Of Women Is Never Raised Above The Reach Of All Expression Until It Has Claimed Kindred With The Deeper Mystery In Our Own Souls.

I Sadly Want A Reform In The Construction Of Children. Nature's Only Idea Seems To Be To Make Them Machines For The Production Of Incessant Noise.

The Dull People Decided Years And Years Ago, As Everyone Knows, That Novel-writing Was The Lowest Species Of Literary Exertion, And That Novel Reading Was A Dangerous Luxury And An Utter Waste Of Time.