Chance, My Dear, Is The

A Man Is A Poor Creature Compared To A Woman.

Danger Arouses Interest. Where Death Is Involved, The Vilest Criminal Invariably Stirs A Little Compassion.

Noble Hearts Are Neither Jealous Nor Afraid Because Jealousy Spells Doubt And Fear Spells Pettiness.

Love Based Upon Money And Vanity Forms The Most Stubborn Of Passions.

A Penniless Man Who Has No Ties To Bind Him Is Master Of Himself At Any Rate, But A Luckless Wretch Who Is In Love No Longer Belongs To Himself, And May Not Take His Own Life. Love Makes Us Almost Sacred In Our Own Eyes; It Is The Life Of Another That We Revere Within Us; Then And So Begins For Us The Cruelest Trouble Of All.