The Spring Is Already Here With Her

Christmas Is A Season Of Such Infinite Labour, As Well As Expense In The Shopping And Present-making Line, That Almost Every Woman I Know Is Good For Nothing In Purse And Person For A Month Afterwards, Done Up Physically, And Broken Down Financially.

... It's Always Determined Characters Who Make The Greatest Fools.

In The North We Could Not Hope To Keep The Worst And Poorest Servant For A Single Day In The Wretched Discomfort In Which Our Negro Servants Are Forced Habitually To Live.

The Death I Should Prefer Would Be To Break My Neck Off The Back Of A Good Horse At A Full Gallop On A Fine Day.

Maids Must Be Wives, And Mothers, To Fulfil Th' Entire And Holiest End Of Woman's Being.