Like The Greatest Virtue And

A Sky Full Of Silent Suns.

A Woman Who Could Always Love Would Never Grow Old; And The Love Of Mother And Wife Would Often Give Or Preserve Many Charms If It Were Not Too Often Combined With Parental And Conjugal Anger. There Remains In The Face Of Women Who Are Naturally Serene And Peaceful, And Of Those Rendered So By Religion, An After-spring, And Later An After-summer, The Reflex Of Their Most Beautiful Bloom.

Universal Love Is A Glove Without Fingers, Which Fits All Bands Alike And None Closely; But True Affection Is Like A Glove With Fingers, Which Fits One Hand Only, And Sits Close To That One.

A Loving Maiden Grows Unconsciously More Bold.

For No One Does Life Drag More Disagreeably Than For Those Who Try To Speed It Up.