Do you know that I have undergone three quarters of this labour entirely for the sake of the fourth quarter?

Is a woman a thinking unit at all, or a fraction always wanting its integer?

There are disappointments which wring us, and there are those which inflict a wound whose mark we bear to our graves. Such are so keen that no future gratification of the same desire can ever obliterate them: they become registered as a permanent loss of happiness.

So each had a private little sun for her soul to bask in; some dream, some affection, some hobby, or at least some remote and distant hope.

Why is it that a woman can see from a distance what a man cannot see close?

A blaze of love and extinction, was better than a lantern glimmer of the same which should last long years.

Do you know that I have undergone three quarters of this labour entirely for the sake of the fourth quarter?