What saves the virtue of many a woman is that protecting god, the impossible.

The woman who is about to deceive her husband always carefully thinks out how she is going to act, but she is never logical.

Many men are deeply moved by the mere semblance of suffering in a woman; they take the look of pain for a sign of constancy or of love.

Nothing is a greater impediment to being on good terms with others than being ill at ease with yourself.

Love, according to our contemporary poets, is a privilege which two beings confer upon one another, whereby they may mutually cause one another much sorrow over absolutely nothing.

When an intelligent man reaches the point of inviting self-explanation and offers surrendering the key to his heart, he is assuredly riding a drunken horse.

Doubt follows white-winged hope with trembling steps.