A woman, even a prude, is not long at a loss, however dire her plight. She would seen always to have in hand the fig leaf our Mother Eve bequeathed to her.

I prefer thought to action, an idea to a transaction, contemplation to activity.

One can imagine the look the two lovers exchanged; it was like a flame, for virtuous lovers have not a shred of hypocrisy.

Doubt follows white-winged hope with trembling steps.

Ah! how much a mother learns from her child! The constant protection of a helpless being forces us to so strict an alliance with virtue, that a woman never shows to full advantage except as a mother. Then alone can her character expand in the fulfillment of all life's duties and the enjoyment of all its pleasures.

Happiness lends poetic charms to woman, and dress adorns her like a delicate tinge of rouge.

When there is an old maid in the house, a watchdog is unnecessary.