What I write is not for little girls.
Fortune loves to give bedroom slippers to people with wooden legs, and gloves to those with no hands.
Only that which serves no end is beautiful; everything useful is ugly.
Sometimes he sits at your feet looking into your face with an expression so gentle and caressing that the depth of his gaze startles you.
Critical lice are like body lice, which desert corpses to seek the living.
What well-bred woman would refuse her heart to a man who had just saved her life? Not one; and gratitude is a short cut which speedily leads to love.