But still she sits like yonder Sphinx, and smiles and no man has ever read all the riddle of her smile, or known all the mystery of her heart. For her are wars for her men spend their strength in gathering gains for her they do well and ill, and seek for greatness, to find oblivion. Ay, Harmachis, she can do these things, for Nature ever fights upon her side and while she does them she can deceive and shape a secret end in which thou hast no part. Art thou fallen? She can lift thee up, and to the illusion of thy sense gild defeat with triumph. Art thou worn and weary? She has comfort in her breast. Art thou set toward ambition? She will unlock thy inner heart, and show thee roads that lead to glory. Does thy blood beat fast in youth? She will outrun it, nor will her kisses tire. She has a captain's eye, and stout must be that fortress of the heart in which she finds no place of vantage. She is the helm of all things human she comes in many shapes and knocks at many doors she is quick and patient, and her passion is not ungovernable like that of man, but as a gentle steed that she can guide e'en where she will, and as occasion offers can now bit up and now give rein. “For Woman, in her weakness, is yet the strongest force upon the earth.
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