To Be Rude Is As Good As

A Sealed Book, At Whose Contents We Tremble.

I Do Love Violets; They Tell The History Of Woman's Love.

Perhaps, From An Innate Desire Of Justification, Sorrow Always Exaggerates Itself. Memory Is Quite One Of Job's Friends; And The Past Is Ever Ready To Throw Its Added Darkness On The Present.

Whenever I Hear A Man Talking Of The Advantages Of Our Ill-used Sex, I Look Upon It As The Prelude To Some New Act Of Authority.

Few Save The Poor Feel For The Poor.