There are so many inconsistencies in life that at times one is appalled.
Take marriage, for instance:--A young woman marries a man who is
tottering on the brink of the grave; old, blaze, a worn-out roue; but
with money enough to gild and gloss the antiquated ruin. She goes before
a clergyman and promises to love, honour and obey. Yes; she loves the
luxury with which she will be surrounded, the glitter of diamonds, the
equipages, the great house, all the paraphanalia of wealth, but she
_hates_ the trembling, tottering, blear-eyed object who bought her.

The clergyman gives his blessing, society receives them with open arms,
and legalized prostitution is upheld by the majesty of the law and
encircled by the sanctified robes of the Church.

The ruling passion of the age: worship of self and worship of pelf.

* * * * *

The age of good breeding has passed; insolence has taken its place.

* * * * *

A woman ceases to think of self when she looks in the face of her
new-born child.

* * * * *

There are people who go through life as if they were going to their own
funeral--and did not enjoy it.