Romanticism Is The Abuse Of

What I Need Is A Woman Who Is Something, Anything: Either Very Beautiful Or Very Kind Or In The Last Resort Very Wicked; Very Witty Or Very Stupid, But Something.

The Glass I Drink From Is Not Large, But At Least It Is My Own.

The Soft Contralto Notes Of A Woman's Voice Are Born In The Immediate Region Of The Heart.

There Is No Worse Sorrow Than Remembering Happiness In The Day Of Sorrow.

Repartee Is Altogether A Natural Endowment, And Is The Lightning Of The Mind.