Girls blush, sometimes, because they are alive, half wishing they were dead to save the shame. The sudden blush devours them, neck and brow; They have drawn too near the fire of life, like gnats, and flare up bodily, wings and all. What then? Whos sorry for a gnat or girl? – Elizabeth Barrett Browning

What a man is ashamed of is always at bottom himself; and he is ashamed of himself at bottom always for being afraid. – Robin G. Collingwood

Oh! no! we never mention her, her name is never heard; my lips are now forbid to speak, that once familiar word. – Thomas Haynes Bayly