Many men nourish a pride which urges them to conceal their struggles and show themselves only as conquerors.

The boor covers himself, the rich man or the fool adorns himself, and the elegant man gets dressed.

Rich women need not fear old age; their gold can always create about them any feelings necessary to their happiness.

Old maids claw as cats do. They not only inflict wounds but experience pleasure in doing so. Nor will they fail to remind their victims of the blood drawn.

Most women wish to feel that their spirit has been violated. Do they not, indeed, flatter themselves on never yielding save to force?

Society proceeds like the ocean. After a disaster, it resume its wonted level and rhythms; its devouring interests efface all traces of damage.

How sternly we reproach virtue for its failings, how indulgent we are to the better qualities of vice!