It Is As Easy To

At Fifteen, Neither Beauty Nor Talent Exist: A Woman Is All Promise.

The Most Virtuous Women Have Within Them Something That Is Never Chaste.

Jealousy, An Eminently Credulous And Suspicious Passion, Allows Fancy The Greatest Possible Play. But It Does Not Bestow Wit, It Banishes All Sense.

Society Bristles With Enigmas Which Look Hard To Solve. It Is A Perfect Maze Of Intrigue.

Does Not Any Limit Imposed Upon One Inspire A Desire To Go Beyond It? Does Not Our Keenest Suffering Arise When Our Free Will Is Crossed?