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As a Rose absorbs the nutrients it feeds on and as it thrives to see the sun as it must to survive…… the Rose becomes more beautiful and in turn will provide sunshine to those who can behold it’s beauty. Fortunate is the Man who can see the Rose within a Woman. Blessed is the man who this Woman holds to be her nutrient, her sunshine.

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She who makes her husband and her children happy, who reclaims the one from vice, and trains up the other to virtue, is a much greater character than the ladies described in romance, whose whole occupation is to murder mankind with shafts from their quiver or their eyes.

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Rather would I have the love songs of romantic ages, rather Don Juan and Madame Venus, rather an elopement by ladder and rope on a moonlight night, followed by the father’s curse, mother’s moans, and the moral comments of neighbors, than correctness and propriety measured by yardsticks.

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Love stories are only fit for the solace of people in the insanity of puberty. No healthy adult human being can really care whether so-and-so does or does not succeed in satisfying his physiological uneasiness by the aid of some particular person or not.

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It is a known fact that men are practical, hardheaded realists, in contrast to women, who are romantic dreamers and actually believe that estrogenic skin cream must do something or they couldn’t charge sixteen dollars for that little tiny jar.

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