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My true friends have always given me that supreme proof of devotion, a spontaneous aversion for the man I loved.
Smokers, male and female, inject and excuse idleness in their lives every time they light a cigarette.
The woman who thinks she is intelligent demands equal rights with men. A woman who is intelligent does not.
Researchers, with science as their authority, will be able to cut -- Animals up, alive, into small pieces, drop them from a great height to see if they are shattered by the fall, or deprive them of sleep for sixteen days and nights continuously for the purposes of an iniquitous monograph... Animal trust, undeserved faith, when at last will you turn away from us? Shall we never tire of deceiving, betraying, tormenting animals before they cease to trust us?
But just as delicate fare does not stop you from craving for saveloys, so tried and exquisite friendship does not take away your taste for something new and dubious.
Can it be that chance has made me one of those women so immersed in one man that, whether they are barren or not, they carry with them to the grave the shriveled innocence of an old maid?
I love my past, I love my present. I am not ashamed of what I have had, and I am not sad because I no longer have it.
It's nothing to be born ugly. Sensibly, the ugly woman comes to terms with her ugliness and exploits it as a grace of nature. To become ugly means the beginning of a calamity, self-willed most of the time.