Woman Has This In Common

To Man, Faith; To Woman, Doubt. She Bears The Heavier Burden. Does Not Woman Invariably Suffer For Two?

Love Or Hatred Must Constantly Increase Between Two Persons Who Are Always Together; Every Moment Fresh Reasons Are Found For Loving Or Hating Better.

Men Die In Despair, While Spirits Die In Ecstasy.

No Hawk Swooping Down Upon His Prey, No Stag Improvising New Detours By Which To Trick The Huntsman, No Dog Scenting Game From Afar Is Comparable In Speed To The Celerity Of A Salesman When He Gets Wind A Deal, To His Skill In Tripping Up Or Forestalling A Rival, And To The Art With Which He Sniffs Out And Discovers A Possible Sale.

A Mother's Happiness Is Like A Beacon, Lighting Up The Future But Reflected Also On The Past In The Guise Of Fond Memories.