The Very Effort To Forget Teaches Us

Jealousy Ought To Be Tragic, To Save It From Being Ridiculous.

Nothing But Love Can Answer To Love; No Affection, No Kindness, No Care, Can Supply Its Place: It Is Its Own Sweet Want.

A Woman's Fame Is The Tomb Of Her Happiness.

Ah, Tell Me Not That Memory Sheds Gladness O'er The Past; What Is Recalled By Faded Flowers, Save That They Did Not Last? Were It Not Better To Forget, Than But Remember And Regret?

Habit Is Our Idea Of Eternity.