The Man As He Converses

With Every One, The Expectation Of A Misfortune Constitutes A Dreadful, Punishment. Suffering Then Assumes The Proportions Of The Unknown, Which Is The Soul's Infinite.

The Man As He Converses Is The Lover; Silent, He Is The Husband.

One Should Believe In Marriage As In The Immortality Of The Soul.

A Mother's Life, You See, Is One Long Succession Of Dramas, Now Soft And Tender, Now Terrible. Not An Hour But Has Its Joys And Fears.

Genuine Sorrows Are Very Tranquil In Appearance In The Deep Bed They Have Dug For Themselves. But, Seeming To Slumber, They Corrode The Soul Like That Frightful Acid Which Penetrates Crystal.