“Like the flowers that are planted in too rich a soil, strength and usefulness are sacrificed to beauty.”

If then women are not a swarm of ephemeron triflers, why should they be kept in ignorance under the specious name of innocence?

The power of generalizing ideas, of drawing comprehensive conclusions from individual observations, is the only acquirement, for an immortal being, that really deserves the name of knowledge.

It is not necessary for me always to premise, that I speak of the condition of the whole sex, leaving exceptions out of the question.

Simplicity and sincerity generally go hand in hand, as both proceed from a love of truth.

I shall not waste my time in rounding periods, nor in fabricating the turgid bombast of artificial feelings, which, coming from the head, never reach the heart.

After attacking the sacred majesty of Kings, I shall scarcely excite surprise by adding my firm persuasion that every profession, in which great subordination of rank constitutes its power, is highly injurious to morality.

I like to see your eyes praise me and, during such recitals, there are interruptions, not ungrateful to the heart, when the honey that drops from the lips is not merely words.

They who pass their whole lives in working for their daily bread, have no ideas beyond their business or their interest, and all their understanding seems to lie in their fingers ends.

I love man as my fellow; but his scepter, real, or usurped, extends not to me, unless the reason of an individual demands my homage; and even then the submission is to reason, and not to man.

Taxes on the very necessaries of life, enable an endless tribe of idle princes and princesses to pass with stupid pomp before a gaping crowd, who almost worship the very parade which costs them so dear.

It appears necessary to go back to first principles in search of the most simple truths, and to dispute with some prevailing prejudice every inch of ground.

But let me now stop; I may be a little partial, and view every thing with the jaundiced eye of melancholy – for I am sad – and have cause.

Soft phrases, susceptibility of heart, delicacy of sentiment, and refinement of taste are almost synonymous with the epithets of weakness, I wish to show that elegance is inferior to virtue.

Happy would it be for women, if they were only flattered by the men who loved them; I mean, who love the individual, not the sex.

In short, women, in general, as well as the rich of both sexes, have acquired all the follies and vices of civilization, and missed the useful fruit.

Without the aid of the imagination all the pleasures of the senses must sink into grossness.

Teach young girls that their beauty is only a fraction of who they are.

If beauty is truth, why don’t women go to the library to have their hair done?

But what if we took it one step further and made an effort to actually transform our pain into something beautiful? What if we went full out and made an effort to transform other people’s pain into something beautiful?

The eyes of a woman who never cried can not be beautiful.

Broken glass taught me there is something so beautiful in shattering.

It’s not my job to look beautiful. It’s my job to look interesting.

I cried and cried and cried having Realized that the beauty of my soul was being neglected by nobody else but myself.

What is pertinent is the calmness of that beauty, its sense of restraint.