I Declare, On My Soul And Conscience,

It Is Only In The Act Of Nursing That A Woman Realizes Her Motherhood In Visible And Tangible Fashion; It Is A Joy Of Every Moment.

A Creole Woman Is Like A Child, She Wants To Possess Everything Immediately; Like A Child, She Would Set Fire To A House In Order To Fry An Egg. In Her Languor, She Thinks Of Nothing; When Passionately Aroused, She Thinks Of Any Act Possible Or Impossible.

Children, Dear And Loving Children, Can Alone Console A Woman For The Loss Of Her Beauty.

Self-love Is As Protective As The Deity; Disenchantment Is As Perspicacious As A Surgeon; Experience Is As Provident As A Mother. Such Are The Theologic Virtues Of Marriage.

Love Is The Only Way On Which Even The Dim-witted Reaches Certain Heights.