By Therese Bentzon (Mme. Blanc)

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A familiarity which, had he known it,
was not flattering

A mother's geese are always swans

As we grow older we lay aside harsh
judgments and sharp words

Bathers, who exhibited themselves in
all degrees of ugliness

Blow which annihilates our supreme

Death is not that last sleep

Fool (there is no cure for that

Fred's verses were not good, but they
were full of dejection

Great interval between a dream and its

Hang out the bush, but keep no tavern

His sleeplessness was not the insomnia
of genius

Importance in this world are as easily
swept away as the sand

Music--so often dangerous to married

Natural longing, that we all have, to
know the worst

Notion of her husband's having an
opinion of his own

Old women--at least thirty years old!

Pride supplies some sufferers with
necessary courage

Seemed to enjoy themselves, or made
believe they did

Seldom troubled himself to please any
one he did not care for

Small women ought not to grow stout

Sympathetic listening, never having
herself anything to say

The bandage love ties over the eyes of

The worst husband is always better than

This unending warfare we call love

Unwilling to leave him to the repose he

Waste all that upon a thing that nobody
will ever look at

Women who are thirty-five should never

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