Forgetting is woman's first and greatest art.

Women wish to be loved without a why or a wherefore; not because they are pretty, or good, or well-bred, or graceful, or intelligent, but because they are themselves.

A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment.

As a jewel of gold in a swine's snout, so is a fair woman which is without discretion.

Intimacies between women often go backwards, beginning in revelations and ending up in small talk without loss of esteem.

In the nineteenth century, government agencies in Washington had, almost without exception, flatly refused to hire even one female.

As the cat lapses into savagery by night, and barbarously explores the dark, so primal and titanic is a woman with the love-madness.

Alas! the love of Women! it is known To be a lovely and a fearful thing.

Now what I love in women is, they won't Or can't do otherwise than lie, but do it So well, the very truth seems falsehood to it.

For women in those days, the break-up of a home was often a break-up of their lives. Many a girl in the bad times passed in a year from bridehood and motherhood to the workhouse or the streets.