"According to anatomy I have such a thing; but it has other functions than those ascribed to it by poets. That of which you speak has, Gall tells us, its seat in the skull, in No. 27 portion of the brain, and is not developed in my organization."
"Do not kill me with your phrenology. You know what love is—"
"I know. The compact of a tyrant with a slave."
"Be you the tyrant; I will be the slave."
"With these words as many women have been deceived as there are grains of sand on the sea-shore."
"I swear to you, my life, my very soul, are yours."
"By whom do you swear? By Venus, so inconstant; by Allah, who denies that women have souls, and divides the heart of man in four parts; by Brahma, who burns the widow on the funereal pyre; or by the great Cosmos?"
"There is nothing so formidable as a woman who takes to philosophizing!"
"That is why I do so."
"You kill every iota of poetry with it."