We find them after hard buffeting, and usually, when we find the one fitted for us, our madness has misshaped our destiny, our lot is cast.

For women are not the end, but the means, of life.

In youth we think them the former, and thousands, who have not even the excuse of youth, select a mate--or worse--with that sole view.

I believe women punish us for so perverting their uses.

They punish Society." The baronet put his hand to his brow as his mind travelled into consequences.
'Our most diligent pupil learns not so much as an earnest teacher,' says The Pilgrim's Scrip; and Sir Austin, in schooling himself to speak with moderation of women, was beginning to get a glimpse of their side of the case.
Cold Blood now touched on love to Hot Blood.
Cold Blood said, "It is a passion coming in the order of nature, the ripe fruit of our animal being." Hot Blood felt: "It is a divinity! All that is worth living for in the world." Cold Blood said: "It is a fever which tests our strength, and too often leads to perdition." Hot Blood felt: "Lead whither it will, I follow it." Cold Blood said: "It is a name men and women are much in the habit of employing to sanctify their appetites." Hot Blood felt: "It is worship; religion; life!" And so the two parallel lines ran on.
The baronet became more personal: "You know my love for you, my son.