“On others pride hushes them to silence; no complaint is made for they scorn pity or sympathy.”

Wherever I am, I see the yoke on women in some form or another. On some it sits easy for they are but beasts of burden.

On some it galls and chafes; they feel assured by every instinct of their nature that they were designed for a higher, nobler calling than to ‘drag life’s lengthening chain along.

[On her recently widowed father’s much younger wife:] My father has been very busy in conjugating the verb to love, and I assure you he declines its moods and tenses inimitably.

Is not sorrow, all sorrow, selfish?

Some flowers give out little or no odour until crushed.

Girls are taught to seem, to appear – not to be and do.