Character: Madeleine de Maupin "Rosalind"

Fate loves to send shoes to those who have instead of legs a piece of wood, and gloves to those who have no hands; a legacy which would allow you to live happily ever after, usually gets you in the day of your death.

Meanwhile, the secret desire of my heart still leads me on the quest for the beloved. The voice of reason drowned out by the voice of nature. Feel never experience happiness if you do not love and will not be loved but the problem is that in beloved, you can choose only one, and men, though, maybe not demons, but not angels. And even if they uticaod his back feathers, and the head will wear a halo of gilded paper - I know them too well to give into the hype. What a beautiful speech in front of me uttered, it will not help them. I know what they say, and she is able to speak for them. I saw them bone up their roles as rehearsing before going on stage, I know their impact calculated on the effect of the tirades and the places in them, which they're hoping. Neither pale face nor distorted by suffering features did not convince me. I know it doesn't prove anything. One night of debauchery, a few bottles of wine Yes, two or three girls enough to give yourself the desired look.

Since I live among men so many times I saw a most undignified way change the woman as casually publicize a secret relationship, and the pure love carelessly dirty with mud, as young people, escaping from the arms of the charming beloved, run to the disgusting courtesans, and the most reliable love Affairs without any valid reason suddenly drop - I can't decide on a love adventure. It would be like that in broad daylight with open eyes, to rush into a bottomless abyss.