Blemishes are hid by night and every fault forgiven; darkness makes any woman fair.
Blemishes are hid by night and every fault forgiven; darkness makes any woman fair.
I hate a woman who offers herself because she ought to do so, and, cold and dry, thinks of her sewing when she's making love
What is it that love does to a woman? Without she only sleeps; with it alone, she lives.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories