There are lots of "sure cures" for love, but the quickest and surest is—another love.

If there were only two women and one man in the world, the man would marry the brunette and then spend the rest of his life peeping over her shoulder and trying to flirt with the blonde.

A woman always embalms the corpse of a dead love; a man wisely cremates it, and plants a new love in the ashes.

A fool and her money are soon courted.

A woman's pity for a man who loves her against her will may be akin to love; but a man's pity for a woman who loves him without his permission is a twin brother to boredom.

Marriage is the miracle which affords a woman a chance to gratify her vanity, pacify her family, mortify her rivals, and electrify her friends, all at the same time. Marriage is sweet![28]

Love is what incites the caveman to drag a woman around by the hair and makes the civilized man permit a woman to drag him around by the nose.

The heart of a woman is a secret sanctuary where she is constantly burning incense and candles before a succession of idols of clay.

Nowadays, a man's faith in women and heaven seems to disappear with his milk-teeth and to reappear again with his false teeth.

To most men "repentance" is merely the interval between the headache and the next temptation.