An air of fashion, which is but a badge of slavery ... proves that the soul has not a strong individual character.
I write in a hurry, because the little one, who has been sleeping a long time, begins to call for me. Poor thing! when I am sad, I lament that all my affections grow on me, till they become too strong for my peace, though they all afford me snatches of exquisite enjoyment.
I do not wish women to have power over men; but over themselves.