Most modern calendars mar the sweet simplicity of our lives by reminding us that each day that passes is the anniversary of some perfectly uninteresting event.

It is well for his peace that the saint goes to his martyrdom. He is spared the sight of the horror of his harvest.

Thirty-five is a very attractive age. London society is full of women of the very highest birth who have, of their own free choice, remained thirty-five for years.

Every effect that one produces gives one an enemy. To be popular one must be a mediocrity.

Women defend themselves by attacking, just as they attack by sudden and strange surrenders.

When both a speaker and an audience are confused, the speech is profound.

All women are rebels.