The world is quite right. It does not have to be consistent.

It is not for nothing that a man's best friends sigh when he marries, especially if he is a man of genius.

Death is the essential condition of life, not an evil.

This is the woman's century, the first chance for the mother of the world to rise to her full place . . . and the world waits while she powders her nose.

Architecture might be more sportive and varied if every man built his own house, but it would not be the art and science that we have made it; and while every woman prepares food for her own family, cooking can never rise beyond the level of the amateur's work.

Not woman, but the condition of woman, has always been a doorway of evil.

A man's honor always seems to want to kill a woman to satisfy it.