We do not want to think. We do not want to hear. We do not care about anything. Only give us a good dinner and plenty of money, and let us outshine our neighbors. There is the Nineteenth Century Gospel.

Could we see when and where we are to meet again, we would be more tender when we bid our friends goodbye.

The heart of silver falls ever into the hands of brass. The sensitive herb is eaten as grass by the swine.

It needs a great nature to bear the weight of a great gratitude.

Friendship needs to be rooted in respect, but love can live upon itself alone

I do not wish to be a coward like the father of mankind and throw the blame upon a woman.

Woman's fatal weakness is to desire sympathy and comprehension. --"Wanda