C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917.
Caprice
Men are nearly as capricious as women.
Caprice in woman is the antidote to beauty.
Woman is a miracle of divine contradictions.
A woman’s fitness comes by fits.
It is not always like to like in love. Titania loved the weaver Bottom, with the ass’s head.
There is a vein of inconsistency in every woman’s heart, within whose portals love hath entered.
How wayward is this foolish love, that, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse and presently, all humble, kiss the rod.
There is a proverb in the South that a woman laughs when she can, and weeps when she pleases.
Love has a way of cheating itself consciously, like a child who plays at solitary hide-and-seek; it is pleased with assurances that it all the while disbelieves.
There are women so hard to please that it would seem as if nothing less than an angel would suit them; and hence it comes that they often encounter devils.
Sing of the nature of women, and then the song shall be surely full of variety,—old crotchets and most sweet closes. It shall be humorous, grave, fantastical, amorous, melancholy, sprightly,—one in all, all in one.
“One might almost fear,” writes a thoughtful woman, “seeing how the women of to-day are lightly stirred up to run after some new fashion or faith, that heaven is not so near to them as it was to their mothers and grandmothers.”