H. B. Marriott Watson

“ The brain swims, and they topple to their fate. Man flows in a current, woman in eddies. Her heart is a jewel within the reach of any cutpurse apt enough with his sentences. My dear sir,' I said, 'this is the sexual distinction. For a man's head is approached through his heart; but a woman's heart is exposed by the swimming of her brain. If you will make a study of her tastes you shall contrive a surrender within the month.'
'Give me the secret,' he said earnestly.
'You forget,' said I, 'I have no knowledge of her quality.'
'And I,' he sighed, 'am a dunce at such riddles. ”

“ It was a ridiculous question, I own, and started him upon a glib panegyric, which I interrupted with a gesture.
'And there is more to follow,' he said, eyeing me with a certain shame and a little reproach.
'God forbid!' I answered. 'We have already here the raw matter for a dozen angels. We do not desire to people Paradise, but to fashion one ninny of a woman for sober contemplation. ”

“ The senses of these women go down in homage to the spectacle in the streets. Clap your hands, yell, pull wry faces, gibber and jest, make the street ring with you; strike through eye or ear, through some sense, through a main avenue, to fame ”