Women Are Not Altogether In The Wrong

He That Is A Friend To Himself, Know; He Is A Friend To All.

If Atoms Do, By Chance, Happen To Combine Themselves Into So Many Shapes, Why Have They Never Combined Together To Form A House Or A Slipper? By The Same Token, Why Do We Not Believe That If Innumerable Letters Of The Greek Alphabet Were Poured All Over The Market-place They Would Eventually Happen To Form The Text Of The Iliad?

I Have Gathered A Posy Of Other Men’s Flowers And Only The Thread That Bonds Them Is My Own.

I Never Rebel So Much Against France As Not To Regard Paris With A Friendly Eye; She Has Had My Heart Since My Childhood... I Love Her Tenderly, Even To Her Warts And Her Spots. I Am French Only By This Great City: The Glory Of France, And One Of The Noblest Ornaments Of The World.

We Commend A Horse For His Strength, And Sureness Of Foot, And Not For His Rich Caparisons; A Greyhound For His Share Of Heels, Not For His Fine Collar; A Hawk For Her Wing, Not For Her Jesses And Bells. Why, In Like Manner, Do We Not Value A Man For What Is Properly His Own? He Has A Great Train, A Beautiful Palace, So Much Credit, So Many Thousand Pounds A Year, And All These Are About Him, But Not In Him.