Women of forty always fancy they have found the Fountain of Youth, and that they remain young in the midst of the ruins of their day.

The graves of those we have loved and lost distress and console as.

Up to forty a woman has only forty springs in her heart. After that age she has only forty winters.

Imagination, whatever may be said to the contrary, will always hold a place in history, as truth does in romance. Has not romance been penned with history in view?

Whoever embarks with women embarks with a storm; but they are themselves the safety boats.

Happiness is always the inaccessible castle which sinks in ruin when we set foot on it.

Always have old memories, and young hopes.