connoisseur.

Before marriage, a man declares that he would lay down his life to serve
you; after marriage, he won't even lay down his newspaper to talk to
you.

If Achilles' only vulnerable spot was in his heel, then his vanity must
have gone to his feet, instead of to his head.

You can't expect a woman to accomplish much in this life, since she is
busy every minute of it either trying to _get_ some man, trying to _get
along with_ one, or trying to _get rid of_ one.

A man's wife is something like his teeth: He never thinks of her unless
she happens to bother him.

Life is a tale that is "told": the monk tells his beads, the seer tells
fortunes, the lover tells lies--and a woman tells everything.

To collect books is a sign of culture, to collect jewels a sign of
wealth, but to collect husbands is a sign of paresis.

A modern bachelor makes love with his hand on his pulse and his eye on
the clock.

Oh yes, there is a vast difference between the savage and the civilized
man, but it is never apparent to their wives until after breakfast.

A sympathetic woman is like a rose which a man wears over his heart; a
stupid woman is like a cabbage which he keeps in his kitchen; but a
merely "clever" woman is like a dahlia--he knows he ought to admire her,
but he had just as lief do so from a distance.

While a woman is weeping over the ghost of a dead love in the graveyard
of memory, a man is usually off pursuing a lot of little new loves in
the garden of forgetfulness.

Life is like a poem or a story; the most important thing about it is not
that it should be long, but that it should be beautiful and interesting.

The older a woman gets the more trusting she becomes; at twenty a man
can feed her only diluted flattery; but at forty she can swallow it,
straight, without a quiver.

No girl who is going to marry need bother to win a college degree; she
just naturally becomes a "Master of Arts" and a "Doctor of Philosophy"
after catering to an ordinary man for a few years.

The average man takes all the natural taste out of his food by covering
it with ready-made sauces, and all the personality out of a woman by
covering her with his ready-made ideals.

Heaven is _not_ a mythical place. It can be found right down in the
heart of the man who has found the work he loves and the woman he loves.

An ideal lover is one with such a keen dramatic instinct that he can
convince himself of his sincerity--even when he knows