It Is Curious How Inseparable

Do Anything But Love; Or If Thou Lovest And Art A Woman, Hide Thy Love From Him Whom Thou Dost Worship; Never Let Him Know How Dear He Is; Flit Like A Bird Before Him; Lead Him From Tree To Tree, From Flower To Flower; But Be Not Won, Or Thou Wilt, Like That Bird, When Caught And Caged, Be Left To Pine Neglected And Perish In Forgetfulness.

Marriage Is Like Money - Seem To Want It, And You Never Get It.

Imagination Is To Love What Gas Is To The Balloon-that Which Raises It From Earth.

Ah, Tell Me Not That Memory Sheds Gladness O'er The Past; What Is Recalled By Faded Flowers, Save That They Did Not Last? Were It Not Better To Forget, Than But Remember And Regret?

Strange Mystery Of Our Nature, That Those In Whom Genius Develops Itself In Imagination, Thus Taking Its Most Ethereal Form, Should Yet Be The Most Dependent On The Opinions Of Others!