On the eve of the Civil War, James Parton could write that ‘the political history of the United States, for the last thirty years, dates from the moment when the soft hand of Mr. Van Buren touched Mrs. Eaton’s knocker.’
To a man who is uncorrupt and properly constituted, woman always remains something of a mystery and a romance. He never interprets her quite literally. She, on her part, is always striving to remain a poem, and is never weary of bringing out new editions of herself in novel bindings.
Fidelity is seven-tenths of business success.
Women do not disapprove their rivals; they hate them.