All love is probationary, a fact which frightens women and exhilarates men.
Women go to beauty parlors for the unmussed look men hate.
You will turn over many a futile new leaf till you learn we must all write on scratched-out pages.
The neurotic lies awake at night, composing letters to those he hates. He seldom thinks of dropping a line to those he loves.
Desire is in men a hunger, in women only an appetite.
Of all second-class citizens, neurotics are the only ones who are so by choice.