Physically, A Man Is A Man For

An Unfulfilled Vocation Drains The Color From A Man's Entire Existence.

What Is A Child, Monsieur, But The Image Of Two Beings, The Fruit Of Two Sentiments Spontaneously Blended?

Love Is Precisely To The Moral Nature What The Sun Is To The Earth.

A Woman's Sentimental Monkeyshines Will Always Deceive Her Lover, Who Invariably Waxes Ecstatic Where Her Husband Necessarily Shrugs His Shoulders.

Virtue, My Pet, Is An Abstract Idea, Varying In Its Manifestations With The Surroundings. Virtue In Provence, In Constantinople, In London, And In Paris Bears Very Different Fruit, But Is None The Less Virtue.