A man would always wish to give a woman a better home than the one he takes her from; and he who can do it, where there is no doubt of her regard, must, I think, be the happiest of mortals.
A man must not flatter himself that he knows his wife, and is making her happy unless he sees her often at his knees.
A man doesn’t want to feel that a woman cares more for him than he does for her. He doesn’t want to feel owned, body and soul. It’s the damned possessive attitude! This man is mine – he belongs to me! That’s the sort of thing I can’t stick – no man could stick! He wants to get away – to get free. He wants to own his woman; he doesn’t want her to own him.
A man can be happy with any woman, as long as he does not love her.
A man always finds it hard to realise that he may have finally lost a woman’s love, however badly he may have treated her.
A lady, without a family, was the very best preserver of furniture in the world.
A husband never loses anything by appearing to believe in the fidelity of his wife, by preserving an air of patience and by keeping silence. Silence especially troubles a woman amazingly.
A girl’s coquetry is of the simplest, she thinks that all is said when the veil is laid aside; a woman’s coquetry is endless, she shrouds herself in veil after veil, she satisfies every demand of man’s vanity, the novice responds but to one.
‘Tis strange what a man may do, and a woman yet think him an angel.
