When There Is An Old Maid In

Sensuality Is The Death Of The Soul.

Man Is No Match For Woman Where Mischief Reigns.

Our Energies Are Often Stimulated By The Necessity Of Supporting A Being Weaker Than Ourselves.

Love Is Like Some Fresh Spring, First A Stream And Then A River, Changing Its Aspect And Its Nature As It Flows To Plunge Itself In Some Boundless Ocean, Where Restricted Natures Only Find Monotony, But Where Great Souls Are Engulfed In Endless Contemplation.

A Woman In Love Has Full Intelligence Of Her Power; The More Virtuous She Is, The More Effective Her Coquetry.