The Really Happy Woman Is The One

Confidence Is A Plant Of Slow Growth; Especially In An Aged Bosom

Pleasure Is Very Seldom Found Where It Is Sought. Our Brightest Blazes Of Gladness Are Commonly Kindled By Unexpected Sparks. The Flowers Which Scatter Their Odours From Time To Time In The Paths Of Life, Grow Up Without Culture From Seeds Scattered By Chance.

The Friendship Which Is To Be Practised Or Expected By Common Mortals, Must Take Its Rise From Mutual Pleasure, And Must End When The Power Ceases Of Delighting Each Other.

Riches Seldom Make Their Owners Rich.

I Know Not, Madam, That You Have A Right, Upon Moral Principles, To Make Your Readers Suffer So Much.