Feigned utter condemnation to make partial comfort acceptable
Frozen vanity called pride, which does not seek to be revenged
Half-truth that we may put on the mask of the whole
Hopes of a coming disillusion that would restore him
How angry I should be with you if you were not so beautiful! 
I can confess my sight to be imperfect:  but will you ever do so? 
If there’s no doubt about it, how is it I have a doubt about it? 
It is not high flying, which usually ends in heavy falling
Let none of us be so exalted above the wit of daily life
No heart to dare is no heart to love! 
Oggler’s genial piety made him shrink with nausea
Past fairness, vaguely like a snow landscape in the thaw
Planting the past in the present like a perceptible ghost
Pleasure-giving laws that make the curves we recognize as beauty
Practical or not, the good people affectingly wish to be
Shun comparisons
So the frog telleth tadpoles
Socially and politically mean one thing in the end
Story that she believed indeed, but had not quite sensibly felt
The critic that sneers
The language of party is eloquent
The slavery of the love of a woman chained
There may be women who think as well as feel; I don’t know them
Trust no man Still, this man may be better than that man
Use your religion like a drug
Who cannot talk!—­but who can? 
Wives are only an item in the list, and not the most important
Women don’t care uncommonly for the men who love them
You are not married, you are simply chained