Once a woman has given you her heart, you can never get rid of the rest of her.
Love's like virtue, its own reward.
A slighted woman knows no bounds.
Friendship's said to be a plant of tedious growth, its root composed of tender fibers, nice in their taste, cautious in spreading.
True virtue, wheresoever it moves, still carries an intrinsic worth about it.
Good manners and soft words have brought many a difficult thing to pass.