Most women have no characters at all.
Now warm in love, now with'ring in my bloom Lost in a convent's solitary gloom!
No woman ever hates a man for being in love with her, but many a woman hate a man for being a friend to her.
Why did I write? What sin to me unknown dipped me in ink, my parents , or my own?
Not always actions show the man; we find who does a kindness is not therefore kind.
For critics, as they are birds of prey, have ever a natural inclination to carrion.