A stew's a stew, and not a boiling to shredsI can't think brisk out of my breechesKindness is kindness, all over the worldLearn all about them afterwards, ay, and make the best of themTo hope, and not be impatient, is really to believeUnseemly hour—unbetimes
Attacked my conscience on the cowardly sideDays when you lay on your back and the sky rained applesDogmatic arrogance of a just but ignorant manHe put no question to anybodyI can pay clever gentlemen for doing Greek for meIrony instead of eloquenceSimplicity is the keenest weaponThe most dangerous word of all—jaThere's ne'er a worse off but there's a better offVessel was conspiring to ruin our self-respect
He would neither retort nor defend himselfI laughed louder than was necessaryTis the fashion to have our tattle done by machinery
Ask pardon of you, without excusing myselfHabit of antedating his sagacityHe thinks or he chewsIf you kneel down, who will decline to put a foot on you?It goes at the lifting of the bridegroom's little fingerLook within, and avoid lyingMindless, he says, and arrogantOne who studies is not being a foolThe past is our mortal mother, no dead thingThe proper defence for a nation is its historyThen for us the struggle, for him the griefThey seem to me to be educated to conceal their educationWe has long overshadowed "I"Who beguiles so much as Self?
Decent insincerityDiscreet play with her eyelids in our encountersExcellent is pride; but oh! be sure of its foundationsI do not defend myself everNations at war are wild beastsOnly true race, properly so called, out of India—GermanSome so-called laws of honourThey are little ironical laughter—AccidentsWar is only an exaggerated form of duellingWinter mornings are divine. They move on noiselessly
Bandied the weariful shuttlecock of gallantryDetermine that the future is in our debt, and draw on itFaith works miracles. At least it allows time for themHe whipped himself up to one of his oratorical frenziesI was discontented, and could not speak my discontentNo Act to compel a man to deny what appears in the papersPuns are the smallpox of the languageStultification of one's feelings and ideasThey dare not. The more I dare, the less dare theyToo prompt, too full of personal relish of his point
All passed too swift for happinessHe clearly could not learn from misfortuneIntimations of cowardice menacing a paralysis of the willLike a woman, who would and would not, and wanted a masterOne in a temper at a time I'm sure 's enoughSimple affection must bear the strain of friendship if it canStand not in my way, nor follow me too farTension of the old links keeping us togetherThe thought stood in her eyesThey have not to speak to exhibit their mindsTight grasps of the hand, in which there was warmth and shynessTo the rest of the world he was a progressive comedyWas I true? Not so very false, yet how far from truth!Who so intoxicated as the convalescent catching at health?
Absolute freedom could be the worst of perilsAdd on a tired pipe after dark, and a sound sleep to followAllowed silly sensitiveness to prevent the repairAs little trouble as the heath when the woods are sweptBade his audience to beware of princesBut the flower is a thing of the season; the flower drops offBut to strangle craving is indeed to go through a deathIs it any waste of time to write of love?Not to do things wholly is worse than not to do things at allPayment is no more so than to restore money held in trustSelf, was digging pits for comfort to flow inTears are the way of women and their comfortThe love that survives has strangled cravingThe wretch who fears death dies multitudinouslyThere is more in men and women than the stuff they utterThose who are rescued and made happy by circumstancesTo kill the deer and be sorry for the suffering wretch is commonTwice a bad thing to turn sinners looseWhat a man hates in adversity is to see 'faces'What else is so consolatory to a ruined man?Who shuns true friends flies fortune in the concreteWould he see what he aims at? let him ask his heelsYou may learn to know yourself through love
A stew's a stew, and not a boiling to shredsAbsolute freedom could be the worst of perilsAdd on a tired pipe after dark, and a sound sleep to followAll passed too swift for happinessAllowed silly sensitiveness to prevent the repairAs little trouble as the heath when the woods are sweptAsk pardon of you, without excusing myselfAttacked my conscience on the cowardly sideBade his audience to beware of princesBandied the weariful shuttlecock of gallantryBut the flower is a thing of the season; the flower drops offBut to strangle craving is indeed to go through a deathDays when you lay on your back and the sky rained applesDecent insincerityDetermine that the future is in our debt, and draw on itDiscreet play with her eyelids in our encountersDogmatic arrogance of a just but ignorant manExcellent is pride; but oh! be sure of its foundationsFaith works miracles. At least it allows time for themHabit of antedating his sagacityHe clearly could not learn from misfortuneHe thinks or he chewsHe would neither retort nor defend himselfHe whipped himself up to one of his oratorical frenziesHe put no question to anybodyI can't think brisk out of my breechesI can pay clever gentlemen for doing Greek for meI do not defend myself everI was discontented, and could not speak my discontentI laughed louder than was necessaryIf you kneel down, who will decline to put a foot on you?Intimations of cowardice menacing a paralysis of the willIrony instead of eloquenceIs it any waste of time to write of love?It goes at the lifting of the bridegroom's little fingerKindness is kindness, all over the worldLearn all about them afterwards, ay, and make the best of themLike a woman, who would and would not, and wanted a masterLook within, and avoid lyingMindless, he says, and arrogantNations at war are wild beastsNo Act to compel a man to deny what appears in the papersNot to do things wholly is worse than not to do things at allOne in a temper at a time I'm sure 's enoughOne who studies is not being a foolOnly true race, properly so called, out of India—GermanPayment is no more so than to restore money held in trustPuns are the smallpox of the languageSelf, was digging pits for comfort to flow inSimple affection must bear the strain of friendship if it canSimplicity is the keenest weaponSome so-called laws of honourStand not in my way, nor follow me too farStultification of one's feelings and ideasTears are the way of women and their comfortTension of the old links keeping us togetherThe most dangerous word of all—jaThe love that survives has strangled cravingThe thought stood in her eyesThe proper defence for a nation is its historyThe wretch who fears death dies multitudinouslyThe past is our mortal mother, no dead thingThen for us the struggle, for him the griefThere is more in men and women than the stuff they utterThere's ne'er a worse off but there's a better offThey seem to me to be educated to conceal their educationThey have not to speak to exhibit their mindsThey dare not. The more I dare, the less dare theyThey are little ironical laughter—AccidentsThose who are rescued and made happy by circumstancesTight grasps of the hand, in which there was warmth and shynessTis the fashion to have our tattle done by machineryTo hope, and not be impatient, is really to believeTo the rest of the world he was a progressive comedyTo kill the deer and be sorry for the suffering wretch is commonToo prompt, too full of personal relish of his pointTwice a bad thing to turn sinners looseUnseemly hour—unbetimesVessel was conspiring to ruin our self-respectWar is only an exaggerated form of duellingWas I true? Not so very false, yet how far from truth!We has long overshadowed "I"What a man hates in adversity is to see 'faces'What else is so consolatory to a ruined man?Who beguiles so much as Self?Who so intoxicated as the convalescent catching at health?Who shuns true friends flies fortune in the concreteWinter mornings are divine. They move on noiselesslyWould he see what he aims at? let him ask his heelsYou may learn to know yourself through love
A bone in a boy's mind for him to gnaw and worryA kind of anchorage in case of indiscretionA night that had shivered reposeAm I thy master, or thou mine?An instinct labouring to supply the deficiencies of stupidityAnd now came war, the purifier and the pestilenceAnd one gets the worst of it (in any bargain)Anticipate opposition by initiating measuresAppetite to flourish at the cost of the weakerAs for titles, the way to defend them is to be worthy of themBoys are unjustBraggadocioing in deeds is only next bad to mouthing itCalm fanaticism of the passion of loveCompassionate sentiments veered round to irate amazementDespises the pomades and curling-irons of modern romanceDisqualification of constantly offending prejudicesEfforts to weary him out of his project were unsuccessfulEmpty magnanimity which his uncle presented to himEnergy to something, that was not to be had in a marketFeminine pity, which is nearer to contempt than to tendernessFit of Republicanism in the nurseryForewarn readers of this history that there is no plot in itHaunted many pillowsHe had expected romance, and had met merchandizeHe was too much on fire to know the taste of absurdityHolding to his work after the strain's over—That tells the manHumour preserved her from excesses of sentimentI cannot say less, and will say no moreImpudent boy's fling at superiority over the superiorIn India they sacrifice the widows, in France the virginsIncessantly speaking of the necessity we granted it unknowinglyLevelling a finger at the taxpayerMen had not pleased him of lateMental and moral neutersNever was a word fitter for a quack's mouth than "humanity"No case is hopeless till a man consents to think it isPeace-party which opposed was the actual cause of the warPeculiar subdued form of laughter through the nosePlay the great game of blundersPlease to be pathetic on that subject after I am wrinkledPolitics as well as the other diseasesPress, which had kindled, proceeded to extinguishedPresumptuous beliefReady is the ardent mind to take footing on the last thing doneShe was not, happily, one of the women who betray strong feelingShuns the statuesque pathetic, or any kind of posturingStraining for common talk, and showing the strainStyle resembling either early architecture or utter dilapidationThe people always wait for the winnerThe system is cursed by nature, and that means by heavenThe tragedy of the mirror is one for a woman to writeTimes when an example is needed by brave menTongue flew, thought followedWe could row and ride and fish and shoot, and breed largelyWe dare not be weak if we wouldWe were unarmed, and the spectacle was distressingWe're treated like old-fashioned ornaments!You're talking to me, not to a gallery
A dash of conventionalism makes the whole civilized world kinAimlessness of a woman's curiosityAll concessions to the people have been won from fearAppealed to reason in them; he would not hear of convictionsAutomatic creature is subject to the laws of its constructionBeautiful servicelessnessCanvassing means intimidation or corruptionComfortable have to pay in occasional panics for the serenityConsult the family means—waste your timeConvictions are generally first impressionsCountry can go on very well without so much speech-makingCrazy zigzag of policy in almost every stroke (of history)Dialectical stiffnessEffort to be reticent concerning Nevil, and communicativeGive our consciences to the keeping of the parsonsHates a compromiseMan owes a duty to his classMark of a fool to take everybody for a bigger fool than himselfMartyrs of love or religion are madmenNever pretend to know a girl by her faceNo stopping the Press while the people have an appetite for itOratory will not work against the stream, or on languid tidesParliament, is the best of occupations for idle menProtestant clergy the social police of the English middle-classThe defensive is perilous policy in warThe family view is everlastingly the shopkeeper'sThe infant candidate delights in his honestyThere is no first claimThere's nothing like a metaphor for an evasionThey're always having to retire and always hissingThose happy men who enjoy perceptions without opinionsThose whose humour consists of a readiness to laughThreatened powerful drugs for weak stomachsTo beg the vote and wink the bribeWe can't hope to have what should beWe have a system, not planned but grownWorld cannot pardon a breach of continuity
A cloud of millinery shoots me off a mile from a womanA string of pearls: a woman who goes beyond that's in dangerAdmires a girl when there's no married woman or widow in sightAfter forty, men have married their habitsAn old spoiler of women is worse than one spoiled by them!And never did a stroke of work in my lifeAre we practical?' penetrates the bosom of an English audienceAs to wit, the sneer is the cloak of clumsinessContemptuous exclusiveness could not go fartherDiscover the writers in a day when all are writing!Feigned utter condemnation to make partial comfort acceptableFrozen vanity called pride, which does not seek to be revengedHalf-truth that we may put on the mask of the wholeHopes of a coming disillusion that would restore himHow angry I should be with you if you were not so beautiful!I can confess my sight to be imperfect: but will you ever do so?If there's no doubt about it, how is it I have a doubt about it?It is not high flying, which usually ends in heavy fallingLet none of us be so exalted above the wit of daily lifeNo heart to dare is no heart to love!Oggler's genial piety made him shrink with nauseaPast fairness, vaguely like a snow landscape in the thawPlanting the past in the present like a perceptible ghostPleasure-giving laws that make the curves we recognize as beautyPractical or not, the good people affectingly wish to beShun comparisonsSo the frog telleth tadpolesSocially and politically mean one thing in the endStory that she believed indeed, but had not quite sensibly feltThe critic that sneersThe language of party is eloquentThe slavery of the love of a woman chainedThere may be women who think as well as feel; I don't know themTrust no man Still, this man may be better than that manUse your religion like a drugWho cannot talk!—but who can?Wives are only an item in the list, and not the most importantWomen don't care uncommonly for the men who love themYou are not married, you are simply chained
Alike believe that Providence is for themBetter for men of extremely opposite opinions not to meetConvict it by instinct without the ceremony of a juryCowardice is even worse for nations than for individual menGive our courage as hostage for the fulfilment of what we hopeGood maxim for the wrathful—speak not at allImpossible for him to think that women thoughtLeader accustomed to count ahead upon vapourish abstractionsLove, that has risen above emotion, quite independent of cravingMade of his creed a strait-jacket for humanityMankind is offended by heterodoxy in mean attireMay not one love, not craving to be beloved?People with whom a mute conformity is as good as worshipPrayer for an object is the cajolery of an idolRebellion against society and advocacy of humanity run counterSmall things producing great consequencesThat a mask is a concealmentThe girl could not know her own mind, for she suited him exactlyThe religion of this vast English middle-class—ComfortThe turn will come to us as to others—and goWomen must not be judging things out of their sphere
A wound of the same kind that we are inflictingAffectedly gentle and unusually roundabout openingCarry a scene through in virtue's name and vice's maskCordiality of an extreme relief in leavingDark-eyed Renee was not beauty but attractionDecline to practise hypocrisyFine eye for celestially directed consequences is ever hauntedFretted by his relatives he cannot be much of a giantGiven up his brains for a lodging to a single ideaHe never calculated on the happening of mortal accidentsHe smoked, Lord Avonley said of the second departureHeights of humour beyond laughterIrony provoked his laughter more than funIrritability at the intrusion of past disputesLed him to impress his unchangeableness upon herMoney's a chain-cable for holding men to their sensesOn which does the eye linger longest—which draws the heart?Once called her beautiful; his praise had given her beautyPassion is not invariably lovePeople is one of your Radical big words that burst at a queryScotchman's metaphysics; you know nothing clearTheir not caring to think at allThere is no step backward in lifeThey have their thinking done for themThey may know how to make themselves happy in their climateThirst for the haranguing of crowdsToo many time-servers rot the StateWe are chiefly led by hopeWelcomed and lured on an adversary to wild outhittingWhat ninnies call Nature in books
A tear would have overcome him—She had not weptArt of speaking on politics terselyDeath within which welcomed a death withoutDignity of sulking so seductive to the wounded spirit of manGrief of an ill-fortuned passion of his youthHe lost the art of observing himselfImmense wealth and native obtuseness combine to disfigure usInfallibility of our august motherInflicted no foretaste of her coming subjection to himLove's a selfish business one has work in handNo man has a firm foothold who pretends to itSilence and such signs are like revelations in black nightThe defensive is perilous policy in warThe greater wounds do not immediately convince us of our fateThe rider's too heavy for the horse in EnglandThe weighty and the trivial contendedTheir hearts are eaten up by propertyUnanimous verdicts from a jury of temporary impressionsWe do not see clearly when we are trying to deceiveWell, sir, we must sell our opiumWon't do to be taking in reefs on a lee-shoreWooing a good man for his friendship
And life said, Do it, and death said, To what end?As fair play as a woman's lord could give herBeauchamp's careerDogs die more decently than we menDreads our climate and coffee too much to attempt the voyageHad come to be her lover through being her husbandHe bowed to factsHe condensed a paragraph into a lineHe runs too much from first principles to extremesI do not think Frenchmen comparable to the women of FranceIt would be hard! ay, then we do it forthwithMaking too much of it—a trick of the vulgarMore argument I cannot bearNone but fanatics, cowards, white-eyeballed dogmatistsPush indolent unreason to gain the delusion of happinessReproof of such supererogatory counselShe had no longer anything to resent: she was obliged to weepSlaves of the priestsThe healthy only are fit to liveThe world without him would be heavy matterThis girl was pliable only to service, not to griefVirtue of impatienceWe women can read men by their power to loveWhen he's a Christian instead of a ChurchmanWhere love exists there is goodnessWithout a single intimation that he loathed the taskWonderment that one of her sex should have ideas
A cloud of millinery shoots me off a mile from a womanA kind of anchorage in case of indiscretionA night that had shivered reposeA tear would have overcome him—She had not weptA wound of the same kind that we are inflictingA string of pearls: a woman who goes beyond that's in dangerA dash of conventionalism makes the whole civilized world kinA bone in a boy's mind for him to gnaw and worryAdmires a girl when there's no married woman or widow in sightAffectedly gentle and unusually roundabout openingAfter forty, men have married their habitsAimlessness of a woman's curiosityAlike believe that Providence is for themAll concessions to the people have been won from fearAm I thy master, or thou mine?An instinct labouring to supply the deficiencies of stupidityAn old spoiler of women is worse than one spoiled by them!And life said, Do it, and death said, To what end?And never did a stroke of work in my lifeAnd now came war, the purifier and the pestilenceAnd one gets the worst of it (in any bargain)Anticipate opposition by initiating measuresAppealed to reason in them; he would not hear of convictionsAppetite to flourish at the cost of the weakerAre we practical?' penetrates the bosom of an English audienceArt of speaking on politics terselyAs fair play as a woman's lord could give herAs to wit, the sneer is the cloak of clumsinessAs for titles, the way to defend them is to be worthy of themAutomatic creature is subject to the laws of its constructionBeauchamp's careerBeautiful servicelessnessBetter for men of extremely opposite opinions not to meetBoys are unjustBraggadocioing in deeds is only next bad to mouthing itCalm fanaticism of the passion of loveCanvassing means intimidation or corruptionCarry a scene through in virtue's name and vice's maskComfortable have to pay in occasional panics for the serenityCompassionate sentiments veered round to irate amazementConsult the family means—waste your timeContemptuous exclusiveness could not go fartherConvict it by instinct without the ceremony of a juryConvictions are generally first impressionsCordiality of an extreme relief in leavingCountry can go on very well without so much speech-makingCowardice is even worse for nations than for individual menCrazy zigzag of policy in almost every stroke (of history)Dark-eyed Renee was not beauty but attractionDeath within which welcomed a death withoutDecline to practise hypocrisyDespises the pomades and curling-irons of modern romanceDialectical stiffnessDignity of sulking so seductive to the wounded spirit of manDiscover the writers in a day when all are writing!Disqualification of constantly offending prejudicesDogs die more decently than we menDreads our climate and coffee too much to attempt the voyageEffort to be reticent concerning Nevil, and communicativeEfforts to weary him out of his project were unsuccessfulEmpty magnanimity which his uncle presented to himEnergy to something, that was not to be had in a marketFeigned utter condemnation to make partial comfort acceptableFeminine pity, which is nearer to contempt than to tendernessFine eye for celestially directed consequences is ever hauntedFit of Republicanism in the nurseryForewarn readers of this history that there is no plot in itFretted by his relatives he cannot be much of a giantFrozen vanity called pride, which does not seek to be revengedGive our courage as hostage for the fulfilment of what we hopeGive our consciences to the keeping of the parsonsGiven up his brains for a lodging to a single ideaGood maxim for the wrathful—speak not at allGrief of an ill-fortuned passion of his youthHad come to be her lover through being her husbandHalf-truth that we may put on the mask of the wholeHates a compromiseHaunted many pillowsHe was too much on fire to know the taste of absurdityHe condensed a paragraph into a lineHe runs too much from first principles to extremesHe bowed to factsHe lost the art of observing himselfHe had expected romance, and had met merchandizeHe smoked, Lord Avonley said of the second departureHe never calculated on the happening of mortal accidentsHeights of humour beyond laughterHolding to his work after the strain's over—That tells the manHopes of a coming disillusion that would restore himHow angry I should be with you if you were not so beautiful!Humour preserved her from excesses of sentimentI can confess my sight to be imperfect: but will you ever do so?I do not think Frenchmen comparable to the women of FranceI cannot say less, and will say no moreIf there's no doubt about it, how is it I have a doubt about it?Immense wealth and native obtuseness combine to disfigure usImpossible for him to think that women thoughtImpudent boy's fling at superiority over the superiorIn India they sacrifice the widows, in France the virginsIncessantly speaking of the necessity we granted it unknowinglyInfallibility of our august motherInflicted no foretaste of her coming subjection to himIrony provoked his laughter more than funIrritability at the intrusion of past disputesIt would be hard! ay, then we do it forthwithIt is not high flying, which usually ends in heavy fallingLeader accustomed to count ahead upon vapourish abstractionsLed him to impress his unchangeableness upon herLet none of us be so exalted above the wit of daily lifeLevelling a finger at the taxpayerLove, that has risen above emotion, quite independent of cravingLove's a selfish business one has work in handMade of his creed a strait-jacket for humanityMaking too much of it—a trick of the vulgarMan owes a duty to his classMankind is offended by heterodoxy in mean attireMark of a fool to take everybody for a bigger fool than himselfMartyrs of love or religion are madmenMay not one love, not craving to be beloved?Men had not pleased him of lateMental and moral neutersMoney's a chain-cable for holding men to their sensesMore argument I cannot bearNever was a word fitter for a quack's mouth than "humanity"Never pretend to know a girl by her faceNo heart to dare is no heart to love!No case is hopeless till a man consents to think it isNo stopping the Press while the people have an appetite for itNo man has a firm foothold who pretends to itNone but fanatics, cowards, white-eyeballed dogmatistsOggler's genial piety made him shrink with nauseaOn which does the eye linger longest—which draws the heart?Once called her beautiful; his praise had given her beautyOratory will not work against the stream, or on languid tidesParliament, is the best of occupations for idle menPassion is not invariably lovePast fairness, vaguely like a snow landscape in the thawPeace-party which opposed was the actual cause of the warPeculiar subdued form of laughter through the nosePeople with whom a mute conformity is as good as worshipPeople is one of your Radical big words that burst at a queryPlanting the past in the present like a perceptible ghostPlay the great game of blundersPlease to be pathetic on that subject after I am wrinkledPleasure-giving laws that make the curves we recognize as beautyPolitics as well as the other diseasesPractical or not, the good people affectingly wish to bePrayer for an object is the cajolery of an idolPress, which had kindled, proceeded to extinguishedPresumptuous beliefProtestant clergy the social police of the English middle-classPush indolent unreason to gain the delusion of happinessReady is the ardent mind to take footing on the last thing doneRebellion against society and advocacy of humanity run counterReproof of such supererogatory counselScotchman's metaphysics; you know nothing clearShe was not, happily, one of the women who betray strong feelingShe had no longer anything to resent: she was obliged to weepShun comparisonsShuns the statuesque pathetic, or any kind of posturingSilence and such signs are like revelations in black nightSlaves of the priestsSmall things producing great consequencesSo the frog telleth tadpolesSocially and politically mean one thing in the endStory that she believed indeed, but had not quite sensibly feltStraining for common talk, and showing the strainStyle resembling either early architecture or utter dilapidationThat a mask is a concealmentThe girl could not know her own mind, for she suited him exactlyThe critic that sneersThe religion of this vast English middle-class—ComfortThe slavery of the love of a woman chainedThe turn will come to us as to others—and goThe language of party is eloquentThe defensive is perilous policy in warThe healthy only are fit to liveThe system is cursed by nature, and that means by heavenThe world without him would be heavy matterThe weighty and the trivial contendedThe rider's too heavy for the horse in EnglandThe greater wounds do not immediately convince us of our fateThe people always wait for the winnerThe defensive is perilous policy in warThe family view is everlastingly the shopkeeper'sThe infant candidate delights in his honestyThe tragedy of the mirror is one for a woman to writeTheir hearts are eaten up by propertyTheir not caring to think at allThere is no step backward in lifeThere may be women who think as well as feel; I don't know themThere is no first claimThere's nothing like a metaphor for an evasionThey may know how to make themselves happy in their climateThey have their thinking done for themThey're always having to retire and always hissingThirst for the haranguing of crowdsThis girl was pliable only to service, not to griefThose whose humour consists of a readiness to laughThose happy men who enjoy perceptions without opinionsThreatened powerful drugs for weak stomachsTimes when an example is needed by brave menTo beg the vote and wink the bribeTongue flew, thought followedToo many time-servers rot the StateTrust no man Still, this man may be better than that manUnanimous verdicts from a jury of temporary impressionsUse your religion like a drugVirtue of impatienceWe do not see clearly when we are trying to deceiveWe women can read men by their power to loveWe could row and ride and fish and shoot, and breed largelyWe dare not be weak if we wouldWe were unarmed, and the spectacle was distressingWe can't hope to have what should beWe have a system, not planned but grownWe are chiefly led by hopeWe're treated like old-fashioned ornaments!Welcomed and lured on an adversary to wild outhittingWell, sir, we must sell our opiumWhat ninnies call Nature in booksWhen he's a Christian instead of a ChurchmanWhere love exists there is goodnessWho cannot talk!—but who can?Without a single intimation that he loathed the taskWives are only an item in the list, and not the most importantWomen don't care uncommonly for the men who love themWomen must not be judging things out of their sphereWon't do to be taking in reefs on a lee-shoreWonderment that one of her sex should have ideasWooing a good man for his friendshipWorld cannot pardon a breach of continuityYou are not married, you are simply chainedYou're talking to me, not to a gallery
Barriers are for those who cannot flyBe good and dull, and please everybodyCentres of polished barbarism known as aristocratic societiesClotilde fenced, which is half a confessionComparisons will thrust themselves on minds disorderedCompromise is virtual deathConservative, whose astounded state paralyzes his wrathCreatures that wait for circumstances to bring the changeDissent rings out finely, and approval is a feeble murmurDo you judge of heroes as of lesser men?Empanelled to deliver verdicts upon the ways of womenFantasticalFinishing touches to the negligenceGone to pieces with an injured lover's babbleGradations appear to be unknown to youHe had to go, he must, he has to be always goingHe stormed her and consented to be beatenHis violent earnestness, his imperial self-confidenceI have learnt as much from light literature as from heavyI would wait till he flung you off, and kneel to youIf you have this creative soul, be the slave of your creatureImagination she has, for a source of strength in the future daysLooking on him was listeningLove the difficulty better than the womanMetaphysician's treatise on Nature: a torch to see the sunriseMusic in Italy? Amorous and martial, brainless and monotonousNot much esteem for non-professional actressesPact between cowardice and comfort under the title of expediencyPhilosophy skimmed, and realistic romances deep-soundedPolished barbarismScorned him for listening to the hesitations (hers)She felt in him a maker of factsStrength in love is the sole sincerityThe brainless in Art and in StatecraftThe way is clear: we have only to take the stepThe worst of omens is delayTime and strength run to waste in retarding the inevitableTime is due to us, and the minutes are our gold slipping awayTo have no sympathy with the playful mind is not to have a mindTwo wishes make a willVenerated by his followers, well hated by his enemiesWho ever loved that loved not at first sight?Win you—temperately, let us hope; by storm, if need beWorld voluntarily opens a path to those who step determinedly
Above all things I detest the writing for moneyBeginning to have a movement to kiss the whipDignitary, and he passed under the bondage of that positionGiant Vanity urged Giant Energy to make use of Giant DuplicityHesitating strangeness that sometimes gathers during absencesHis apparent cynicism is sheer irritabilityI give my self, I do not sellNight has little mercy for the self-reproachfulNot in a situation that could bear of her blaming herselfO for yesterday!Professional widowsSelf-consoled when they are not self-justifiedWant of courage is want of senseWe shall not be rich—nor poorWork of extravagance upon perceptibly plain matter
A tragic comedian: that is, a grand pretender, a self-deceiverAt the age of forty, men that love love rootedlyHosts of men are of the simple order of the comicMen in love are children with their mistressesProvidence and her parents were not forgivenShe ran through delusion and delusion, exhausting eachTrick for killing time without hurting himWeak souls are much moved by having the pathos on their side
A tragic comedian: that is, a grand pretender, a self-deceiverAbove all things I detest the writing for moneyAt the age of forty, men that love love rootedlyBarriers are for those who cannot flyBe good and dull, and please everybodyBeginning to have a movement to kiss the whipCentres of polished barbarism known as aristocratic societiesClotilde fenced, which is half a confessionComparisons will thrust themselves on minds disorderedCompromise is virtual deathConservative, whose astounded state paralyzes his wrathCreatures that wait for circumstances to bring the changeDignitary, and he passed under the bondage of that positionDissent rings out finely, and approval is a feeble murmurDo you judge of heroes as of lesser men?Empanelled to deliver verdicts upon the ways of womenFantasticalFinishing touches to the negligenceGiant Vanity urged Giant Energy to make use of Giant DuplicityGone to pieces with an injured lover's babbleGradations appear to be unknown to youHe had to go, he must, he has to be always goingHe stormed her and consented to be beatenHesitating strangeness that sometimes gathers during absencesHis violent earnestness, his imperial self-confidenceHis apparent cynicism is sheer irritabilityHosts of men are of the simple order of the comicI give my self, I do not sellI have learnt as much from light literature as from heavyI would wait till he flung you off, and kneel to youIf you have this creative soul, be the slave of your creatureImagination she has, for a source of strength in the future daysLooking on him was listeningLove the difficulty better than the womanMen in love are children with their mistressesMetaphysician's treatise on Nature: a torch to see the sunriseMusic in Italy? Amorous and martial, brainless and monotonousNight has little mercy for the self-reproachfulNot much esteem for non-professional actressesNot in a situation that could bear of her blaming herselfO for yesterday!Pact between cowardice and comfort under the title of expediencyPhilosophy skimmed, and realistic romances deep-soundedPolished barbarismProfessional widowsProvidence and her parents were not forgivenScorned him for listening to the hesitations (hers)Self-consoled when they are not self-justifiedShe ran through delusion and delusion, exhausting eachShe felt in him a maker of factsStrength in love is the sole sincerityThe worst of omens is delayThe way is clear: we have only to take the stepThe brainless in Art and in StatecraftTime is due to us, and the minutes are our gold slipping awayTime and strength run to waste in retarding the inevitableTo have no sympathy with the playful mind is not to have a mindTrick for killing time without hurting himTwo wishes make a willVenerated by his followers, well hated by his enemiesWant of courage is want of senseWe shall not be rich—nor poorWeak souls are much moved by having the pathos on their sideWho ever loved that loved not at first sight?Win you—temperately, let us hope; by storm, if need beWork of extravagance upon perceptibly plain matterWorld voluntarily opens a path to those who step determinedly
A witty woman is a treasure; a witty Beauty is a powerAt war with ourselves, means the best happiness we can haveBeauty is rare; luckily is it rareBetween love grown old and indifference ageing to loveBut they were a hopeless couple, they were so friendlyCharitable mercifulness; better than sentimental ointmentDedicated to the putrid of the upper circleDreaded as a scourge, hailed as a refreshment (Scandalsheet)Elderly martyr for the advancement of his juniorsFavour can't help coming by rotationFlashes bits of speech that catch men in their unguarded cornerFor 'tis Ireland gives England her soldiers, her generals tooGet back what we giveGoodish sort of fellow; good horseman, good shot, good characterGrossly unlike in likeness (portraits)He had by nature a tarnishing eye that cast discolourationHe had neat phrases, opinions in packetsHe was not a weaver of phrases in distressHe's good from end to end, and beats a Christian hollow (a hog)Her final impression likened him to a house locked up and emptyHerself, content to be dull if he might shineHis gaze and one of his ears, if not the pair, were givenHow immensely nature seems to prefer men to women!Human nature to feel an interest in the dog that has bitten youI have and hold—you shall hunger and covetIdea is the only vital breathIf I'm struck, I strike backInclined to act hesitation in accepting the aid she soughtLengthened term of peace bred maggots in the heads of the peopleLoathing for speculationMare would do, and better than a dozen horsesMatter that is not nourishing to brainsMusic was resumed to confuse the hearing of the eavesdroppersNeeded support of facts, and feared themO self! self! self!Or where you will, so that's in IrelandOur bravest, our best, have an impulse to runPerused it, and did not recognize herself in her languagePride in being always myselfProcrastination and excessive scrupulousnessRead deep and not be baffled by inconsistenciesService of watering the dry and drying the damp (Whiskey)She had a fatal attraction for antiquesShe marries, and it's the end of her sparklingSmart remarks have their measured distancesSomething of the hare in us when the hounds are full crySwell and illuminate citizen prose to a princely poeticThat is life—when we dare death to live!That's the natural shamrock, after the artificialThe burlesque Irishman can't be caricaturedThe well of true wit is truth itselfThey create by stoppage a volcanoThis love they rattle about and rave aboutTooth that received a stone when it expected candyWe live alone, and do not much feel it till we are visitedWeather and women have some resemblance they sayWhat a woman thinks of women, is the test of her natureWhere she appears, the first person falls to second rankYou are entreated to repress alarmYou beat me with the fists, but my spirit is towering
A kindly sense of superiorityBy resisting, I made him a tyrantCarry explosives and must particularly guard against sparksDepending for dialogue upon perpetual fresh supplies of scandalDose he had taken was not of the sweetestFriendship, I fancy, means one heart between twoHe was the maddest of tyrants—a weak oneHe, by insisting, made me a rebelHer feelings—trustier guides than her judgement in this crisisI do not see it, because I will not see itInducement to act the hypocrite before the hypocrite worldInsistency upon there being two sides to a case—to every caseIntrusion of the spontaneous on the stereotyped would clashIrony that seemed to spring from aversionIt is the best of signs when women take to herMistaking of her desires for her reasonsMutual deferenceNever fell far short of outstripping the sturdy pedestrian TimeObservation is the most, enduring of the pleasures of lifeOne might build up a respectable figure in negativesOpenly treated; all had an air of being on the surfaceOwner of such a woman, and to lose her!Paint themselves pure white, to the obliteration of minor spotsQuixottry is agreeable reading, a silly performanceReal happiness is a state of dulnessReluctant to take the life of flowers for a whimRewards, together with the expectations, of the virtuousSleepless nightSmoky receptacle cherishing millionsTerrible decree, that all must act who would prevailVowed never more to repeat that offence to his patienceWas not one of the order whose Muse is the Public TasteWife and no wife, a prisoner in libertyWomen are taken to be the second thoughts of the CreatorWorld is ruthless, dear friends, because the world is hypocriteWorld prefers decorum to honestyYawns coming alarmingly fast, in the place of ideas
Beautiful women in her position provoke an intemperatenessCapricious potentate whom they worshipCircumstances may combine to make a whisper as deadly as a blowCompared the governing of the Irish to the management of a horseCould have designed this gabbler for the mateDebit was eloquent, he was unanswerableExplaining of things to a dull headHappy in privation and suffering if simply we can accept beautyHe gained much by claiming littleHer peculiar tenacity of the sense of injuryHis ridiculous equanimityKeep passion sober, a trotter in harnessMoral indignation is ever consolatoryOmnipotence, which is in the image of themselvesStrain to see in the utter dark, and nothing can come of thatTendency to polysyllabic phraseologyThe blindness of Fortune is her one meritThey have no sensitiveness, we have too muchTop and bottom sin is cowardiceTouch him with my hand, before he passed from our sightWe must fawn in societyWe never see peace but in the features of the dead
A high wind will make a dead leaf fly like a birdBeware the silent one of an assembly!Brittle is foredoomedCommon sense is the secret of every successful civil agitationIts glee at a catastrophe; its poor stock of mercyMoney is of course a rough test of virtueSalt of earth, to whom their salt must serve for nourishmentSentimentality puts up infant hands for absolutionShe herself did not like to be seen eating in publicSlightest taste for comic analysis that does not tumble to farceThe greed of gain is our volcanoThe man had to be endured, like other doses in politicsVagrant compassionateness of sentimentalistsWhat might have beenWhat the world says, is what the wind saysWithout those consolatory efforts, useless between men
Accidents are the specific for averting the maladies of ageAccounting for it, is not the same as excusingAssist in our small sphere; not come mouthing to the footlightsAvoid the position that enforces publishingCapacity for thinking should precede the act of writingChaste are wattled in formalism and throned in sournessCould the best of men be simply—a woman's friend?Enthusiasm has the privilege of not knowing monotonyEnvy of the man of positive knowledgeExpectations dupe us, not trustExternally soft and polished, internally hard and relentlessFiddle harmonics on the sensual stringsHeart to keep guard and bury the bones you tossed himHolding to the refusal, for the sake of consistencyI don't count them against women (moods)I never knew till this morning the force of No in earnestI wanted a heroI'm in love with everything she wishes! I've got the habitIf he had valued you half a grain less, he might have won youInfatuated men argue likewise, and scandal does not move themIt is the devil's masterstroke to get us to accuse himLet never Necessity draw the bow of our weaknessLiterature is a good stick and a bad horseMaterial good reverses its benefits the more nearly we clasp itMistake of the world is to think happiness possible to the senseNothing is a secret that has been spokenNothing the body suffers that the soul may not profit byNow far from him under the failure of an effort to come nearOur weakness is the swiftest dog to hunt usQuestion the gain of such an expenditure of energyRare men of honour who can command their passionRead with his eyes when you meet him this morningSham spiritualismShe had sunk her intelligence in her sensationsSympathy is for proving, not pratingThe debts we owe ourselves are the hardest to payTrial of her beauty of a woman in a temperWe don't know we are in halvesWe're a peaceful people, but 'ware who touches usWeighty little word—woman's native watchdog and guardian (No!)When we despair or discolour things, it is our senses in revoltWho can really think, and not think hopefully?Who venerate when they loveWith that I sail into the darkWomen with brains, moreover, are all heartless
A witty woman is a treasure; a witty Beauty is a powerA high wind will make a dead leaf fly like a birdA kindly sense of superiorityAccidents are the specific for averting the maladies of ageAccounting for it, is not the same as excusingAssist in our small sphere; not come mouthing to the footlightsAt war with ourselves, means the best happiness we can haveAvoid the position that enforces publishingBeautiful women in her position provoke an intemperatenessBeauty is rare; luckily is it rareBetween love grown old and indifference ageing to loveBeware the silent one of an assembly!Brittle is foredoomedBut they were a hopeless couple, they were so friendlyBy resisting, I made him a tyrantCapacity for thinking should precede the act of writingCapricious potentate whom they worshipCarry explosives and must particularly guard against sparksCharitable mercifulness; better than sentimental ointmentChaste are wattled in formalism and throned in sournessCircumstances may combine to make a whisper as deadly as a blowCommon sense is the secret of every successful civil agitationCompared the governing of the Irish to the management of a horseCould have designed this gabbler for the mateCould the best of men be simply—a woman's friend?Debit was eloquent, he was unanswerableDedicated to the putrid of the upper circleDepending for dialogue upon perpetual fresh supplies of scandalDose he had taken was not of the sweetestDreaded as a scourge, hailed as a refreshment (Scandalsheet)Elderly martyr for the advancement of his juniorsEnthusiasm has the privilege of not knowing monotonyEnvy of the man of positive knowledgeExpectations dupe us, not trustExplaining of things to a dull headExternally soft and polished, internally hard and relentlessFavour can't help coming by rotationFiddle harmonics on the sensual stringsFlashes bits of speech that catch men in their unguarded cornerFor 'tis Ireland gives England her soldiers, her generals tooFriendship, I fancy, means one heart between twoGet back what we giveGoodish sort of fellow; good horseman, good shot, good characterGrossly unlike in likeness (portraits)Happy in privation and suffering if simply we can accept beautyHe was not a weaver of phrases in distressHe had by nature a tarnishing eye that cast discolourationHe gained much by claiming littleHe, by insisting, made me a rebelHe had neat phrases, opinions in packetsHe was the maddest of tyrants—a weak oneHe's good from end to end, and beats a Christian hollow (a hog)Heart to keep guard and bury the bones you tossed himHer peculiar tenacity of the sense of injuryHer feelings—trustier guides than her judgement in this crisisHer final impression likened him to a house locked up and emptyHerself, content to be dull if he might shineHis gaze and one of his ears, if not the pair, were givenHis ridiculous equanimityHolding to the refusal, for the sake of consistencyHow immensely nature seems to prefer men to women!Human nature to feel an interest in the dog that has bitten youI wanted a heroI do not see it, because I will not see itI never knew till this morning the force of No in earnestI have and hold—you shall hunger and covetI don't count them against women (moods)I'm in love with everything she wishes! I've got the habitIdea is the only vital breathIf I'm struck, I strike backIf he had valued you half a grain less, he might have won youInclined to act hesitation in accepting the aid she soughtInducement to act the hypocrite before the hypocrite worldInfatuated men argue likewise, and scandal does not move themInsistency upon there being two sides to a case—to every caseIntrusion of the spontaneous on the stereotyped would clashIrony that seemed to spring from aversionIt is the best of signs when women take to herIt is the devil's masterstroke to get us to accuse himIts glee at a catastrophe; its poor stock of mercyKeep passion sober, a trotter in harnessLengthened term of peace bred maggots in the heads of the peopleLet never Necessity draw the bow of our weaknessLiterature is a good stick and a bad horseLoathing for speculationMare would do, and better than a dozen horsesMaterial good reverses its benefits the more nearly we clasp itMatter that is not nourishing to brainsMistake of the world is to think happiness possible to the senseMistaking of her desires for her reasonsMoney is of course a rough test of virtueMoral indignation is ever consolatoryMusic was resumed to confuse the hearing of the eavesdroppersMutual deferenceNeeded support of facts, and feared themNever fell far short of outstripping the sturdy pedestrian TimeNothing the body suffers that the soul may not profit byNothing is a secret that has been spokenNow far from him under the failure of an effort to come nearO self! self! self!Observation is the most, enduring of the pleasures of lifeOmnipotence, which is in the image of themselvesOne might build up a respectable figure in negativesOpenly treated; all had an air of being on the surfaceOr where you will, so that's in IrelandOur weakness is the swiftest dog to hunt usOur bravest, our best, have an impulse to runOwner of such a woman, and to lose her!Paint themselves pure white, to the obliteration of minor spotsPerused it, and did not recognize herself in her languagePride in being always myselfProcrastination and excessive scrupulousnessQuestion the gain of such an expenditure of energyQuixottry is agreeable reading, a silly performanceRare men of honour who can command their passionRead with his eyes when you meet him this morningRead deep and not be baffled by inconsistenciesReal happiness is a state of dulnessReluctant to take the life of flowers for a whimRewards, together with the expectations, of the virtuousSalt of earth, to whom their salt must serve for nourishmentSentimentality puts up infant hands for absolutionService of watering the dry and drying the damp (Whiskey)Sham spiritualismShe had sunk her intelligence in her sensationsShe marries, and it's the end of her sparklingShe herself did not like to be seen eating in publicShe had a fatal attraction for antiquesSleepless nightSlightest taste for comic analysis that does not tumble to farceSmart remarks have their measured distancesSmoky receptacle cherishing millionsSomething of the hare in us when the hounds are full cryStrain to see in the utter dark, and nothing can come of thatSwell and illuminate citizen prose to a princely poeticSympathy is for proving, not pratingTendency to polysyllabic phraseologyTerrible decree, that all must act who would prevailThat is life—when we dare death to live!That's the natural shamrock, after the artificialThe man had to be endured, like other doses in politicsThe burlesque Irishman can't be caricaturedThe greed of gain is our volcanoThe debts we owe ourselves are the hardest to payThe well of true wit is truth itselfThe blindness of Fortune is her one meritThey have no sensitiveness, we have too muchThey create by stoppage a volcanoThis love they rattle about and rave aboutTooth that received a stone when it expected candyTop and bottom sin is cowardiceTouch him with my hand, before he passed from our sightTrial of her beauty of a woman in a temperVagrant compassionateness of sentimentalistsVowed never more to repeat that offence to his patienceWas not one of the order whose Muse is the Public TasteWe live alone, and do not much feel it till we are visitedWe never see peace but in the features of the deadWe must fawn in societyWe don't know we are in halvesWe're a peaceful people, but 'ware who touches usWeather and women have some resemblance they sayWeighty little word—woman's native watchdog and guardian (No!)What might have beenWhat the world says, is what the wind saysWhat a woman thinks of women, is the test of her natureWhen we despair or discolour things, it is our senses in revoltWhere she appears, the first person falls to second rankWho can really think, and not think hopefully?Who venerate when they loveWife and no wife, a prisoner in libertyWith that I sail into the darkWithout those consolatory efforts, useless between menWomen are taken to be the second thoughts of the CreatorWomen with brains, moreover, are all heartlessWorld is ruthless, dear friends, because the world is hypocriteWorld prefers decorum to honestyYawns coming alarmingly fast, in the place of ideasYou beat me with the fists, but my spirit is toweringYou are entreated to repress alarm
Admiration of an enemy or oppressor doing great deedsAristocratic assumption of licenceBut what is it we do (excepting cricket, of course)Consent of circumstancesContinued trust in the man—is the alternative of despairCritical fashion of intimates who know as well as hearDespises hostile elements and goes unpunishedDithyrambic inebriety of narrationFeminine; coming when she willed and flying when wantedFire smoothes the creasesFrankness as an armour over warinessHalf a dozen dozen leftHard to bear, at times unbearableHaremed opinion of the unfitness of womenHe neared her, wooing her; and she assentedHe never acknowledged a trouble, he dispersed itHe prattled, in the happy ignorance of compulsionHe sinks terribly when he sinks at allHeathen vindictiveness declaring itself holyIf we are really for Nature, we are not lawlessIn bottle if not on draught (oratory)In the pay of our doctorsIntrusion of hard material statements, factsKelts, as they are called, can't and won't forgive injuriesMan with a material object in aim, is the man of his objectNature and Law never agreedNature's logic, Nature's voice, for self-defenceNext door to the Last TrumpObeseness is the most sensitive of our ailmentsOnce out of the rutted line, you are food for lion and jackalOne wants a little animation in a husbandPeople of a provocative prosperitySelf-deceiver may be a persuasive deceiver of anotherShe was not his match—To speak would be to succumbSlap and pinch and starve our appetitesSmallest of our gratifications in life could give a happy toneSmothered in its pudding-bed of the grotesque (obesity)Snuffle of hypocrisy in her prayerState of feverish patriotismStatistics are according to their conjurorsSubterranean recess for Nature against the Institutions of ManTale, which leaves the man's mind at homeThe effects of the infinitely littleThe old confession, that we cannot cook(The English)They do not live; they are enginesThey helped her to feel at home with herselfThought of differences with him caused frightful apprehensionsUnshamed exuberant male has found the sweet reverse in his mateWe cannot relinquish an idea that was oursWe've all a parlous lot too much pulpit in us
Ask not why, where reason never wasCover of action as an escape from perplexityHonest creatures who will not accept a lift from fictionJudgeing of the destiny of man by the fate of individualsMemory inspired by the sensationsNature could at a push be eloquent to defend the guiltySatirist too devotedly loves his lash to be a persuasive teacherSlave of existing conventionsStartled by the criticism in laughterThe impalpable which has prevailing weightThere is little to be learnt when a little is knownThey kissed coldly, pressed a hand, said good nightWho enjoyed simple things when commanding the luxuries
Belief in the narrative by promoting nausea in the audienceClaim for equality puts an end to the priceless privilegesConsent to take life as it isDialogue between Nature and CircumstanceDudley was not gifted to read behind words and looksExuberant anticipatory trustfulnessFell to chatting upon the nothings agreeably and seriouslyGreater our successes, the greater the slaves we becomeHe never explainedHow Success derides Ambition!If only been intellectually a little flexible in his moralityNaturally as deceived as he wished to beOfficial wrath at sound of footfall or a fancied oneOptional marriages, broken or renewed every seven yearsPessimy is invulnerableRepeatedly, in contempt of the disgust of iterationSatirist is an executioner by professionSemblance of a tombstone lady beside her lordThe banquet to be fervently remembered, should smokeThe homage we pay him flatters usWe must have some excuse, if we would keep to life
All of us an ermined owl within us to sit in judgementCannot be any goodness unless it is a practiced goodnessEminently servile is the tolerated lawbreakerHalf designingly permitted her trouble to be seenHappy the woman who has not more to speakIf we are robbed, we ask, How came we by the goods?Let but the throb be kept for others—That is the one secretLove must needs be an egoismNot to go hunting and fawning for alliancesPortrait of himself by the artistPut into her woman's harness of the bit and the blinkersShare of foulness to them that are for scouring the chamberShe disdained to question the mouth which had bitten herThe face of a stopped watchThe worst of it is, that we rememberTo do nothing, is the wisdom of those who have seen fools perishWe have come to think we have a claim upon her gratitudeWhimpering fits you said we enjoy and must have in books