Manners Are The Hypocrisy Of A Nation.

Women Are As They Are; They Necessarily Have The Defects Of Their Virtues.

A Vocation Is Born To Us All; Happily Most Of Us Meet Promptly Our Twin,--occupation.

We Flew Back Home Like Swallows. 'is It Happiness That Makes Us So Light?' Agathe Asked.

Love Knows Nothing Of Modesty.

Love, According To Our Contemporary Poets, Is A Privilege Which Two Beings Confer Upon One Another, Whereby They May Mutually Cause One Another Much Sorrow Over Absolutely Nothing.