Order in a house ought to be like the machinery in opera, whose effect produces great pleasure, but whose ends must be hid. — Suzanne Curchod Copy Share Image
Reason ought not, like vanity, to adorn herself with ancient parchments, and the display of a genealogical tree; more dignified in her proceedings, and proud of her immortal nature, she ought to derive everything from herself. — Suzanne Curchod Copy Share Image
The revolting details of childbirth had been hidden from me with such care that I was as surprised as I was horrified, and I… — Suzanne Curchod Copy Share Image
It is often a sign of wit not to show it, and not to see that others want it. — Suzanne Curchod Copy Share Image
When death gives us a long lease of life, it takes as hostages all those whom we have loved. — Suzanne Curchod Copy Share Image
One of the first observations to make in conversation is the state, or the character, and the education of the person to whom we… — Suzanne Curchod Copy Share Image
The quarrels of lovers are like summer storms. Everything is more beautiful when they have passed. — Suzanne Curchod Copy Share Image
The most subtle flattery that a woman can receive is by actions, not by words. — Suzanne Curchod Copy Share Image
