True love isn't the kind that endures through long years of absence, but the kind that endures through long years of propinquity.

Love: woman's eternal spring and man's eternal fall.

There's so much saint in the worst of them, and so much devil in the best of them, that a woman who's married to one of them, has nothing to learn of the rest of them.

Never worry for fear you have broken a man's heart; at the worst it is only sprained and a week's rest will put it in perfect working condition again.

A woman's flattery may inflate a man's head a little; but her criticism goes straight to his heart, and contracts it so that it can never again hold quite as much love for her.

A man can become so accustomed to the thought of his own faults that he will begin to cherish them as charming little 'personal characteristics.'

Nowadays love is a matter of chance, matrimony a matter of money and divorce a matter of course.