What A Thing Of Fantasy A Woman

Chance, My Dear, Is The Sovereign Deity In Child-bearing.

Virtue Is Always Too Much Of A Piece And Too Ignorant Of Those Shades Of Feeling And Of Temperament That Enable Us To Squint When We Are Placed In A False Position.

The Country Is Provincial; It Becomes Ridiculous When It Tries To Ape Paris.

I Am Not Deep, But I Am Very Wide.

Love Is The Only Passion Which Suffers Neither Past Nor Future.