Paradise is always where love dwells.
In women everything is heart, even the head.
No heroine can create a hero through love of one, but she can give birth to one
A woman who could always love would never grow old; and the love of mother and wife would often give or preserve many charms if it were not too often combined with parental and conjugal anger. There remains in the face of women who are naturally serene and peaceful, and of those rendered so by religion, an after-spring, and later an after-summer, the reflex of their most beautiful bloom.
