“Analysis kills spontaneity. The grain once ground into flour springs and germina…” — Henri Frederic Amiel

In every loving woman there is a priestess of the past - a pious guardian of some affection, of which the object has disappeared.

Let us be true: this is the highest maxim of art and of life, the secret of eloquence and of virtue, and of all moral authority.

We only understand that which already is within us.

Woman is the salvation or the destruction of the family. She carries its destiny in the folds of her mantle.