An incomprehensible world indeed at the bottom and at the topArrest the enemy by vociferations of persistent prayerCountry prizing ornaments higher than qualitiesDeath is our common cloak; but Calamity individualizesHow little we mean to do harm when we do an injuryNation's half made-up of the idle and the servants of the idleNo companionship save with the wound they nurseNot always the right thing to do the right thingThe night went past as a yearUniversal censor's angry spite
Admiration of an enemy or oppressor doing great deedsAll of us an ermined owl within us to sit in judgementAn incomprehensible world indeed at the bottom and at the topAristocratic assumption of licenceArrest the enemy by vociferations of persistent prayerAsk not why, where reason never wasBelief in the narrative by promoting nausea in the audienceBut what is it we do (excepting cricket, of course)Cannot be any goodness unless it is a practiced goodnessClaim for equality puts an end to the priceless privilegesConsent of circumstancesConsent to take life as it isContinued trust in the man—is the alternative of despairCountry prizing ornaments higher than qualitiesCover of action as an escape from perplexityCritical fashion of intimates who know as well as hearDeath is our common cloak; but Calamity individualizesDespises hostile elements and goes unpunishedDialogue between Nature and CircumstanceDithyrambic inebriety of narrationDudley was not gifted to read behind words and looksEminently servile is the tolerated lawbreakerExuberant anticipatory trustfulnessFell to chatting upon the nothings agreeably and seriouslyFeminine; coming when she willed and flying when wantedFire smoothes the creasesFrankness as an armour over warinessGreater our successes, the greater the slaves we becomeHalf designingly permitted her trouble to be seenHalf a dozen dozen leftHappy the woman who has not more to speakHard to bear, at times unbearableHaremed opinion of the unfitness of womenHe sinks terribly when he sinks at allHe never acknowledged a trouble, he dispersed itHe never explainedHe neared her, wooing her; and she assentedHe prattled, in the happy ignorance of compulsionHeathen vindictiveness declaring itself holyHonest creatures who will not accept a lift from fictionHow little we mean to do harm when we do an injuryHow Success derides Ambition!If only been intellectually a little flexible in his moralityIf we are robbed, we ask, How came we by the goods?If we are really for Nature, we are not lawlessIn the pay of our doctorsIn bottle if not on draught (oratory)Intrusion of hard material statements, factsJudgeing of the destiny of man by the fate of individualsKelts, as they are called, can't and won't forgive injuriesLet but the throb be kept for others—That is the one secretLove must needs be an egoismMan with a material object in aim, is the man of his objectMemory inspired by the sensationsNation's half made-up of the idle and the servants of the idleNaturally as deceived as he wished to beNature and Law never agreedNature could at a push be eloquent to defend the guiltyNature's logic, Nature's voice, for self-defenceNext door to the Last TrumpNo companionship save with the wound they nurseNot to go hunting and fawning for alliancesNot always the right thing to do the right thingObeseness is the most sensitive of our ailmentsOfficial wrath at sound of footfall or a fancied oneOnce out of the rutted line, you are food for lion and jackalOne wants a little animation in a husbandOptional marriages, broken or renewed every seven yearsPeople of a provocative prosperityPessimy is invulnerablePortrait of himself by the artistPut into her woman's harness of the bit and the blinkersRepeatedly, in contempt of the disgust of iterationSatirist is an executioner by professionSatirist too devotedly loves his lash to be a persuasive teacherSelf-deceiver may be a persuasive deceiver of anotherSemblance of a tombstone lady beside her lordShare of foulness to them that are for scouring the chamberShe was not his match—To speak would be to succumbShe disdained to question the mouth which had bitten herSlap and pinch and starve our appetitesSlave of existing conventionsSmallest of our gratifications in life could give a happy toneSmothered in its pudding-bed of the grotesque (obesity)Snuffle of hypocrisy in her prayerStartled by the criticism in laughterState of feverish patriotismStatistics are according to their conjurorsSubterranean recess for Nature against the Institutions of ManTale, which leaves the man's mind at homeThe banquet to be fervently remembered, should smokeThe homage we pay him flatters usThe effects of the infinitely littleThe night went past as a yearThe old confession, that we cannot cook(The English)The worst of it is, that we rememberThe face of a stopped watchThe impalpable which has prevailing weightThere is little to be learnt when a little is knownThey helped her to feel at home with herselfThey kissed coldly, pressed a hand, said good nightThey do not live; they are enginesThought of differences with him caused frightful apprehensionsTo do nothing, is the wisdom of those who have seen fools perishUniversal censor's angry spiteUnshamed exuberant male has found the sweet reverse in his mateWe have come to think we have a claim upon her gratitudeWe must have some excuse, if we would keep to lifeWe cannot relinquish an idea that was oursWe've all a parlous lot too much pulpit in usWhimpering fits you said we enjoy and must have in booksWho enjoyed simple things when commanding the luxuries
A female free-thinker is one of Satan's concubinesA free-thinker startles him as a kind of demonAll that Matey and Browny were forbidden to write they lookedCajoled like a twenty-year-old yahoo at collegeCould not understand enthusiasm for the schoolmaster's careerCurious thing would be if curious things should fail to happenFew men can forbear to tell a spicy story of their friendsHe began ambitiously—It's the way at the beginningHe loathed a skulkerI'm for a rational DeityLoathing of artifice to raise emotionNevertheless, inclinations are an infidelityPublished Memoirs indicate the end of a man's activityThe despot is alert at every issue, to every chanceThings were lumpish and gloomy that day of the weekWe shall want a war to teach the country the value of courageYou'll have to guess at half of everything he tells youYou're going to be men, meaning something better than women
A woman, and would therefore listen to nonsenseAnd not be beaten by an acknowledged defeatBotched mendings will only make them worseConvincing themselves that they impersonate sagacityI have all the luxuries—enough to loathe themLawyers hold the keys of the great worldNaked original ideas, are acceptable at no timeNot daring risk of office by offending the taxpayerThis female talk of the eternitiesTo know how to take a licking, that wins in the endTo males, all ideas are female until they are made factsWe cannot, men or woman, control the heart in sleep at nightWho cries, Come on, and prays his gods you won't
As well ask (women) how a battle-field concerns them!Boys who can appreciate brave deeds are capable of doing themCareful not to smell of his officeChose to conceive that he thought abstractedlyConsign discussion to silence with the cynical closureConvictions we store—wherewith to shape our destiniesDeath is only the other side of the ditchDidn't say a word No use in talking about feelingsEnthusiast, when not lyrical, is perilously near to boringHe took small account of the operations of the feelingsHer duel with TimeHopeless task of defending a woman from a womanI hate old age It changes you soIgnorance roaring behind a mask of sarcasmMen bore the blame, though the women were rightly punishedNever nurse an injury, great or smallNo love can be without jealousyOld age is a prison wall between us and young peopleOrderliness, from which men are privately exemptPeople were virtuous in past days: they counted their sinnersProfessional PuritansRegularity of the grin of dentistryThat pit of one of their dead silencesThe beat of a heart with a dread like a shot in itThe good life gone lives on in the mindThe shots hit us behind youThe spending, never harvesting, worldThe terrible aggregate social womanVenus of nature was melting into a Venus of art
A bird that won't roast or boil or stewActing is not of the high class which conceals the artAh! we fall into their fictionsBad luck's not repeated every day Keep heart for the goodBegan the game of PullBy nature incapable of asking pardonConsciousness of some guilt when vowing itself innocentHaving contracted the fatal habit of ironyHe had to shake up wrath over his grievancesHer vehement fighting against factsHis aim to win the woman acknowledged no obstacle in the meansHis restored sense of possessionHow to compromise the matter for the sake of peace?I could be in love with her cruelty, if only I had her near meMen who believe that there is a virtue in imprecationsNot men of brains, but the men of aptitudesNot the indignant and the frozen, but the genially indifferentOne is a fish to her hook; another a moth to her lightOne night, and her character's gonePassion added to a bowl of reason makes a sophist's messPolicy seems to petrify their mindsRage of a conceited schemer trickedRespect one another's affectationsTo time and a wife it is no disgrace for a man to bendUncommon unprogressivenessWhen duelling flourished on our land, frail women powerfulWhere heart weds mind, or nature joins intellectWith what little wisdom the world is governed
Affected misapprehensionsAny excess pushes to crazinessBad laws are best brokenBeing in heart and mind the brother to the sister with womenBounds of his intelligence closed their four wallsBoys, of course—but men, too!But had sunk to climb on a firmer footingChallenged him to lead up to her desired stormy sceneCould we—we might be friendsDeath is always next doorDesire of it destroyed itDetestable feminine storms enveloping men weak enoughDistaste for all exercise once pleasurableDivided lovers in presenceEnthusiasm struck and tightened the loose chord of scepticismExult in imagination of an escape up to the moment of captureGreatest of men; who have to learn from the loss of the womanHe gave a slight sign of restiveness, and was allowed to goHe had gone, and the day lived again for both of themI look on the back of lifeI married a cook She expects a big appetiteI want no more, except to be taught to workIf the world is hostile we are not to blame itIncrease of dissatisfaction with the more she gotLearn—principally not to be afraid of ideasLook well behindLucky accidents are anticipated only by foolsMagnify an offence in the ratio of our vanityMan who helps me to read the world and men as they areMeant to vanquish her with the dominating patienceNapoleon's treatment of women is excellent exampleNecessity's offspringOne has to feel strong in a delicate positionOur love and labour are constantly on trialPerhaps inspire him, if he would let her breathePerson in another world beyond this world of bloodPractical for having an addiction to the palpableScreams of an uninjured ladySelfishness and icy inaccessibility to emotionShe had a thirsting mindShe had to be the hypocrite or else—leapSilence was doing the work of a scourgeSmile she had in reserve for serviceable personsSnatch her from a possessor who forfeited by undervaluing herSo says the minute Years are before youThe next ten minutes will decide our destiniesThe woman side of himThere are women who go through life not knowing loveThere is no history of events below the surfaceThey want you to show them what they 'd like the world to beThings are not equalTitles showered on the women who take free breath of airViolent summons to accept, which is a provocation to denyWe don't go together into a garden of rosesWhy he enjoyed the privilege of seeing, and was not beside herWomen are happier enslavedWorld against us It will not keep us from trying to serveYears are the teachers of the great rocky natures
A bird that won't roast or boil or stewA woman, and would therefore listen to nonsenseA free-thinker startles him as a kind of demonA female free-thinker is one of Satan's concubinesActing is not of the high class which conceals the artAffected misapprehensionsAh! we fall into their fictionsAll that Matey and Browny were forbidden to write they lookedAnd not be beaten by an acknowledged defeatAny excess pushes to crazinessAs well ask (women) how a battle-field concerns them!Bad luck's not repeated every day Keep heart for the goodBad laws are best brokenBegan the game of PullBeing in heart and mind the brother to the sister with womenBotched mendings will only make them worseBounds of his intelligence closed their four wallsBoys who can appreciate brave deeds are capable of doing themBoys, of course—but men, too!But had sunk to climb on a firmer footingBy nature incapable of asking pardonCajoled like a twenty-year-old yahoo at collegeCareful not to smell of his officeChallenged him to lead up to her desired stormy sceneChose to conceive that he thought abstractedlyConsciousness of some guilt when vowing itself innocentConsign discussion to silence with the cynical closureConvictions we store—wherewith to shape our destiniesConvincing themselves that they impersonate sagacityCould not understand enthusiasm for the schoolmaster's careerCould we—we might be friendsCurious thing would be if curious things should fail to happenDeath is only the other side of the ditchDeath is always next doorDesire of it destroyed itDetestable feminine storms enveloping men weak enoughDidn't say a word No use in talking about feelingsDistaste for all exercise once pleasurableDivided lovers in presenceEnthusiasm struck and tightened the loose chord of scepticismEnthusiast, when not lyrical, is perilously near to boringExult in imagination of an escape up to the moment of captureFew men can forbear to tell a spicy story of their friendsGreatest of men; who have to learn from the loss of the womanHaving contracted the fatal habit of ironyHe had to shake up wrath over his grievancesHe had gone, and the day lived again for both of themHe gave a slight sign of restiveness, and was allowed to goHe loathed a skulkerHe took small account of the operations of the feelingsHe began ambitiously—It's the way at the beginningHer vehement fighting against factsHer duel with TimeHis aim to win the woman acknowledged no obstacle in the meansHis restored sense of possessionHopeless task of defending a woman from a womanHow to compromise the matter for the sake of peace?I have all the luxuries—enough to loathe themI hate old age It changes you soI could be in love with her cruelty, if only I had her near meI look on the back of lifeI want no more, except to be taught to workI married a cook She expects a big appetiteI'm for a rational DeityIf the world is hostile we are not to blame itIgnorance roaring behind a mask of sarcasmIncrease of dissatisfaction with the more she gotLawyers hold the keys of the great worldLearn—principally not to be afraid of ideasLoathing of artifice to raise emotionLook well behindLucky accidents are anticipated only by foolsMagnify an offence in the ratio of our vanityMan who helps me to read the world and men as they areMeant to vanquish her with the dominating patienceMen bore the blame, though the women were rightly punishedMen who believe that there is a virtue in imprecationsNaked original ideas, are acceptable at no timeNapoleon's treatment of women is excellent exampleNecessity's offspringNever nurse an injury, great or smallNevertheless, inclinations are an infidelityNo love can be without jealousyNot daring risk of office by offending the taxpayerNot the indignant and the frozen, but the genially indifferentNot men of brains, but the men of aptitudesOld age is a prison wall between us and young peopleOne has to feel strong in a delicate positionOne night, and her character's goneOne is a fish to her hook; another a moth to her lightOrderliness, from which men are privately exemptOur love and labour are constantly on trialPassion added to a bowl of reason makes a sophist's messPeople were virtuous in past days: they counted their sinnersPerhaps inspire him, if he would let her breathePerson in another world beyond this world of bloodPolicy seems to petrify their mindsPractical for having an addiction to the palpableProfessional PuritansPublished Memoirs indicate the end of a man's activityRage of a conceited schemer trickedRegularity of the grin of dentistryRespect one another's affectationsScreams of an uninjured ladySelfishness and icy inaccessibility to emotionShe had to be the hypocrite or else—leapShe had a thirsting mindSilence was doing the work of a scourgeSmile she had in reserve for serviceable personsSnatch her from a possessor who forfeited by undervaluing herSo says the minute Years are before youThat pit of one of their dead silencesThe despot is alert at every issue, to every chanceThe spending, never harvesting, worldThe shots hit us behind youThe terrible aggregate social womanThe next ten minutes will decide our destiniesThe woman side of himThe good life gone lives on in the mindThe beat of a heart with a dread like a shot in itThere is no history of events below the surfaceThere are women who go through life not knowing loveThey want you to show them what they 'd like the world to beThings are not equalThings were lumpish and gloomy that day of the weekThis female talk of the eternitiesTitles showered on the women who take free breath of airTo males, all ideas are female until they are made factsTo time and a wife it is no disgrace for a man to bendTo know how to take a licking, that wins in the endUncommon unprogressivenessVenus of nature was melting into a Venus of artViolent summons to accept, which is a provocation to denyWe cannot, men or woman, control the heart in sleep at nightWe shall want a war to teach the country the value of courageWe don't go together into a garden of rosesWhen duelling flourished on our land, frail women powerfulWhere heart weds mind, or nature joins intellectWho cries, Come on, and prays his gods you won'tWhy he enjoyed the privilege of seeing, and was not beside herWith what little wisdom the world is governedWomen are happier enslavedWorld against us It will not keep us from trying to serveYears are the teachers of the great rocky naturesYou'll have to guess at half of everything he tells youYou're going to be men, meaning something better than women
Accounting his tight blue tail coat and brass buttons a victoryAmused after their tiresome work of slaughterAnd her voice, against herself, was for EnglandAs for comparisons, they are flowers thrown into the fireAs if the age were the injury!Brains will beat Grim Death if we have enough of themBut a great success is full of temptationsCould affect me then, without being flung at meCountry enclosed us to make us feel snug in our own importanceDid not know the nature of an oath, and was dismissedDogs' eyes have such a sick look of loveDrank to show his disdain of its powersEarl of Cressett fell from his coach-box in a fitFather used to say, four hours for a man, six for a womanFond, as they say, of his glass and his girlFound that he 'cursed better upon water'Good-bye to sorrow for a while—Keep your tears for the livingHad got the trick of lying, through fear of telling the truthHard enough for a man to be married to a foolHe was a figure on a horse, and naught when off itHer intimacy with a man old enough to be her grandfatherI hate sleep: I hate anything that robs me of my willInnocence and uncleanness may go togetherIt was an honest buss, but dear at ten thousandLimit was two bottles of port wine at a sittingLittle boy named Tommy Wedger said he saw a dead body go byMighty Highnesses who had only smelt the outside edge of battleNo enemy's shot is equal to a weak heart in the actNot afford to lose, and a disposition free of the craving to winPast, future, and present, the three weights upon humanityPut material aid at a lower mark than gentlenessPuzzle to connect the foregoing and the succeedingSeventy, when most men are reaping and stacking their sinsShould we leave a good deed half doneShowery, replied the admiral, as his cocked-hat was knocked offSo indulgent when they drop their blot on a lady's characterSo much for morality in those days!Steady shakes themSweetest on earth to her was to be prized by her brotherThey could have pardoned her a younger loverThus are we stricken by the days of our youthTruth is, they have taken a stain from the life they leadVery little parleying between determined menWarm, is hardly the word—Winter's warm on skatesWoman finds herself on board a rudderless vesselWriter society delights in, to show what it is composed ofYou are to imagine that they know everythingYou saw nothing but handkerchiefs out all over the theatre
Cock-sure has crowed low by sunsetDrink is their death's river, rolling them on helplessFather and she were aware of one another without conversingFun, at any cost, is the one object worth a shotHe was the prisoner of his wordHeartily she thanked the girl for the excuse to cryHearts that make one soul do not separately count their giftsLife is the burlesque of young dreamsMake a girl drink her tears, if they ain't to be let fallOn a morning when day and night were made one by fogPoetic romance is delusionPush me to condense my thoughts to a tight ballShe endured meekly, when there was no meeknessShe seemed really a soaring bird brought down by the fowlerShe stood with a dignity that the word did not expressThere is no driver like stomachTouch sin and you accommodate yourself to its vilenessYou played for gain, and that was a licenced thieving
Always the shout for more produced it ("News")Anecdotist to slaughter families for the amusementCall of the great world's appetite for more (Invented news)Enemy's laugh is a bugle blown in the nightHe wants the whip; ought to have had it regularlyMagnificent in generosity; he had little humanenessShe was thrust away because because he had offendedWomen treat men as their tamed housemates
Be the woman and have the last word!Charity that supplied the place of justice was not thankedCourage to grapple with his pride and open his heart was wantingDeeds only are the titleDetested titles, invented by the EnglishHe did not vastly respect beautiful womenLook backward only to correct an error of conduct in futureMeditations upon the errors of the general man, as a coverNot to be the idol, to have an aim of our ownObjects elevated even by a decayed world have their magnetismOne idea is a bulletQuick to understand, she is in the quick of understandingReligion is the one refuge from womenScorn titles which did not distinguish practical officesThe divinely damnable naked truth won't wear ornamentsThe embraced respected womanThe habit of the defensive paralyzes willThe idol of the hour is the mob's wooden puppetTheir sneer withersTighter than ever I was tight I'll be to-nightWith one idea, we see nothing—nothing but itselfYou want me to flick your indecision
A dumb tongue can be a heavy liarAdvised not to push at a shut gateAs faith comes—no saying how; one swears by themBent double to gather things we have tossed awayContempt of military weapons and ridicule of the art of warEverlastingly in this life the better pays for the worseFatal habit of superiority stopped his tongueFestive board provided for them by the valour of their fathersFlung him, pitied him, and passed onFoe can spoil my face; he beats me if he spoils my temperHe had wealth for a likeness of strengthHimself in the worn old surplice of the converted rakeIdeas in gestation are the dullest matter you can haveInjury forbids us to be friends againLies are usurers' coin we pay for ten thousand per centLove of pleasure keeps us blind childrenNever forgave an injury without a return blow for itPebble may roll where it likes—not so the costly jewelReflection upon a statement is its lightning in advanceReligion condones offences: Philosophy has no forgivenessSensitiveness to the sting, which is not allowed to poisonStrengthening the backbone for a bend of the knee in calamityStyle is the mantle of greatnessThat sort of progenitor is your "permanent aristocracy"There's not an act of a man's life lies dead behind himThose who have the careless chatter, the ready laughThose who know little and dread muchTo most men women are knaves or ninniesWakening to the claims of others—Youth's infant conscienceWe make our taskmasters of those to whom we have done a wrongWe shall go together; we shall not have to weep for one anotherWooing her with dog's eyes instead of words
A dumb tongue can be a heavy liarAccounting his tight blue tail coat and brass buttons a victoryAdvised not to push at a shut gateAlways the shout for more produced it ("News")Amused after their tiresome work of slaughterAnd her voice, against herself, was for EnglandAnecdotist to slaughter families for the amusementAs faith comes—no saying how; one swears by themAs for comparisons, they are flowers thrown into the fireAs if the age were the injury!Be the woman and have the last word!Bent double to gather things we have tossed awayBrains will beat Grim Death if we have enough of themBut a great success is full of temptationsCall of the great world's appetite for more (Invented news)Charity that supplied the place of justice was not thankedCock-sure has crowed low by sunsetContempt of military weapons and ridicule of the art of warCould affect me then, without being flung at meCountry enclosed us to make us feel snug in our own importanceCourage to grapple with his pride and open his heart was wantingDeeds only are the titleDetested titles, invented by the EnglishDid not know the nature of an oath, and was dismissedDogs' eyes have such a sick look of loveDrank to show his disdain of its powersDrink is their death's river, rolling them on helplessEarl of Cressett fell from his coach-box in a fitEnemy's laugh is a bugle blown in the nightEverlastingly in this life the better pays for the worseFatal habit of superiority stopped his tongueFather used to say, four hours for a man, six for a womanFather and she were aware of one another without conversingFestive board provided for them by the valour of their fathersFlung him, pitied him, and passed onFoe can spoil my face; he beats me if he spoils my temperFond, as they say, of his glass and his girlFound that he 'cursed better upon water'Fun, at any cost, is the one object worth a shotGood-bye to sorrow for a while—Keep your tears for the livingHad got the trick of lying, through fear of telling the truthHard enough for a man to be married to a foolHe did not vastly respect beautiful womenHe was a figure on a horse, and naught when off itHe had wealth for a likeness of strengthHe wants the whip; ought to have had it regularlyHe was the prisoner of his wordHeartily she thanked the girl for the excuse to cryHearts that make one soul do not separately count their giftsHer intimacy with a man old enough to be her grandfatherHimself in the worn old surplice of the converted rakeI hate sleep: I hate anything that robs me of my willIdeas in gestation are the dullest matter you can haveInjury forbids us to be friends againInnocence and uncleanness may go togetherIt was an honest buss, but dear at ten thousandLies are usurers' coin we pay for ten thousand per centLife is the burlesque of young dreamsLimit was two bottles of port wine at a sittingLittle boy named Tommy Wedger said he saw a dead body go byLook backward only to correct an error of conduct in futureLove of pleasure keeps us blind childrenMagnificent in generosity; he had little humanenessMake a girl drink her tears, if they ain't to be let fallMeditations upon the errors of the general man, as a coverMighty Highnesses who had only smelt the outside edge of battleNever forgave an injury without a return blow for itNo enemy's shot is equal to a weak heart in the actNot afford to lose, and a disposition free of the craving to winNot to be the idol, to have an aim of our ownObjects elevated even by a decayed world have their magnetismOn a morning when day and night were made one by fogOne idea is a bulletPast, future, and present, the three weights upon humanityPebble may roll where it likes—not so the costly jewelPoetic romance is delusionPush me to condense my thoughts to a tight ballPut material aid at a lower mark than gentlenessPuzzle to connect the foregoing and the succeedingQuick to understand, she is in the quick of understandingReflection upon a statement is its lightning in advanceReligion condones offences: Philosophy has no forgivenessReligion is the one refuge from womenScorn titles which did not distinguish practical officesSensitiveness to the sting, which is not allowed to poisonSeventy, when most men are reaping and stacking their sinsShe seemed really a soaring bird brought down by the fowlerShe was thrust away because because he had offendedShe stood with a dignity that the word did not expressShe endured meekly, when there was no meeknessShould we leave a good deed half doneShowery, replied the admiral, as his cocked-hat was knocked offSo much for morality in those days!So indulgent when they drop their blot on a lady's characterSteady shakes themStrengthening the backbone for a bend of the knee in calamityStyle is the mantle of greatnessSweetest on earth to her was to be prized by her brotherThat sort of progenitor is your "permanent aristocracy"The habit of the defensive paralyzes willThe embraced respected womanThe idol of the hour is the mob's wooden puppetThe divinely damnable naked truth won't wear ornamentsTheir sneer withersThere is no driver like stomachThere's not an act of a man's life lies dead behind himThey could have pardoned her a younger loverThose who have the careless chatter, the ready laughThose who know little and dread muchThus are we stricken by the days of our youthTighter than ever I was tight I'll be to-nightTo most men women are knaves or ninniesTouch sin and you accommodate yourself to its vilenessTruth is, they have taken a stain from the life they leadVery little parleying between determined menWakening to the claims of others—Youth's infant conscienceWarm, is hardly the word—Winter's warm on skatesWe make our taskmasters of those to whom we have done a wrongWe shall go together; we shall not have to weep for one anotherWith one idea, we see nothing—nothing but itselfWoman finds herself on board a rudderless vesselWomen treat men as their tamed housematesWooing her with dog's eyes instead of wordsWriter society delights in, to show what it is composed ofYou played for gain, and that was a licenced thievingYou saw nothing but handkerchiefs out all over the theatreYou are to imagine that they know everythingYou want me to flick your indecision
A contented Irishman scarcely seems my countrymanA country of compromise goes to pieces at the first cannon-shotA lady's company-smileA superior position was offered her by her being silentAnd it's one family where the dog is pulled by the collarArch-devourer TimeAs if she had never heard him previously enunciate the formulaAs secretive as they are sensitiveBe politic and give her elbow-room for her natural anglesBecoming air of appropriation that made it family historyConstitutionally discontentedDecency's a dirty petticoat in the Garden of InnocenceEngland's the foremost country of the globeEnjoys his luxuries and is ashamed of his lazinessFires in the grates went through the ceremony of warming nobodyFoist on you their idea of your idea at the momentGrimaces at a government long-nosed to no purposeHe judged of others by himselfHear victorious lawlessness appealing solemnly to God the lawHer aspect suggested the repose of a winter landscapeHere, where he both wished and wished not to beI 'm the warming pan, as legitimately I should beI detest enthusiasmI never saw out of a doll-shop, and never saw thereIndirect communication with heavenIreland 's the sore place of EnglandIrishman there is a barrow trolling a load of grievancesIrony in him is only eulogy standing on its headLack of precise words admonished him of the virtue of silenceMarried at forty, and I had to take her shaped as she wasMen must fight: the law is only a quieter field for themMika! you did it in cold blood?No man can hear the words which prove him a prophet (quietly)Not so much read a print as read the imprinting on themselvesNot to bother your wits, but leave the puzzle to the priestOld houses are doomed to burningsOur lawyers have us inside out, like our physiciansPhilip was a Spartan for keeping his feelings underTaste a wound from the lightest touch, and they nurse the venomThat fiery dragon, a beautiful woman with brainsThe race is for domestic peace, my boyWe're all of us hit at last, and generally by our own weaponWe're smitten to-day in our hearts and our pocketsWelsh blood is queer bloodWhere one won't and can't, poor t' other mustWinds of panic are violently engaged in occupying the vacuumWith a frozen fish of admirable principles for wifeWithdrew into the entrenchments of contemptYou'll tell her you couldn't sit down in her presence undressed
A whisper of cajolery in season is often the secretAh! we're in the enemy's country nowBeautiful women may believe themselves belovedCould peruse platitudes upon that theme with enthusiasmFoamy top is offered and gulped as equivalent to an ideaHard men have sometimes a warm affection for dogsHe was not alive for his own pleasureHug the hatred they packed up among their bundlesI baint done yetIrishmen will never be quite sincereLoudness of the interrogation precluded thought of an answerLove the children of Erin, when not fretted by themLoves his poets, can almost understand what poetry meansMay lull themselves with their wakefulnessNever forget that old Ireland is weepingNot every chapter can be sunshineNot likely to be far behind curates in besieging an heiressNot the great creatures we assume ourselves to beNursing of a military invalid awakens tenderer anxietiesPaying compliments and spoiling a game!Secret of the art was his meaning what he saidSuggestion of possible danger might more dangerous than silenceTears of men sink plummet-deepTears of such a man have more of blood than of water in themThey laugh, but they laugh extinguishinglyTime, whose trick is to turn corners of unanticipated sharpnessTwisted by a nature that would not allow of open eyesWith death; we'd rather not, because of a qualmWoman's precious word No at the sentinel's post, and alertWould like to feel he was doing a bit of good
A country of compromise goes to pieces at the first cannon-shotA lady's company-smileA superior position was offered her by her being silentA whisper of cajolery in season is often the secretA contented Irishman scarcely seems my countrymanAh! we're in the enemy's country nowAnd it's one family where the dog is pulled by the collarArch-devourer TimeAs secretive as they are sensitiveAs if she had never heard him previously enunciate the formulaBe politic and give her elbow-room for her natural anglesBeautiful women may believe themselves belovedBecoming air of appropriation that made it family historyConstitutionally discontentedCould peruse platitudes upon that theme with enthusiasmDecency's a dirty petticoat in the Garden of InnocenceEngland's the foremost country of the globeEnjoys his luxuries and is ashamed of his lazinessFires in the grates went through the ceremony of warming nobodyFoamy top is offered and gulped as equivalent to an ideaFoist on you their idea of your idea at the momentGrimaces at a government long-nosed to no purposeHard men have sometimes a warm affection for dogsHe judged of others by himselfHe was not alive for his own pleasureHear victorious lawlessness appealing solemnly to God the lawHer aspect suggested the repose of a winter landscapeHere, where he both wished and wished not to beHug the hatred they packed up among their bundlesI never saw out of a doll-shop, and never saw thereI 'm the warming pan, as legitimately I should beI detest enthusiasmI baint done yetIndirect communication with heavenIreland 's the sore place of EnglandIrishman there is a barrow trolling a load of grievancesIrishmen will never be quite sincereIrony in him is only eulogy standing on its headLack of precise words admonished him of the virtue of silenceLoudness of the interrogation precluded thought of an answerLove the children of Erin, when not fretted by themLoves his poets, can almost understand what poetry meansMarried at forty, and I had to take her shaped as she wasMay lull themselves with their wakefulnessMen must fight: the law is only a quieter field for themMika! you did it in cold blood?Never forget that old Ireland is weepingNo man can hear the words which prove him a prophet (quietly)Not every chapter can be sunshineNot likely to be far behind curates in besieging an heiressNot the great creatures we assume ourselves to beNot so much read a print as read the imprinting on themselvesNot to bother your wits, but leave the puzzle to the priestNursing of a military invalid awakens tenderer anxietiesOld houses are doomed to burningsOur lawyers have us inside out, like our physiciansPaying compliments and spoiling a game!Philip was a Spartan for keeping his feelings underSecret of the art was his meaning what he saidSuggestion of possible danger might more dangerous than silenceTaste a wound from the lightest touch, and they nurse the venomTears of men sink plummet-deepTears of such a man have more of blood than of water in themThat fiery dragon, a beautiful woman with brainsThe race is for domestic peace, my boyThey laugh, but they laugh extinguishinglyTime, whose trick is to turn corners of unanticipated sharpnessTwisted by a nature that would not allow of open eyesWe're all of us hit at last, and generally by our own weaponWe're smitten to-day in our hearts and our pocketsWelsh blood is queer bloodWhere one won't and can't, poor t' other mustWinds of panic are violently engaged in occupying the vacuumWith a frozen fish of admirable principles for wifeWith death; we'd rather not, because of a qualmWithdrew into the entrenchments of contemptWoman's precious word No at the sentinel's post, and alertWould like to feel he was doing a bit of goodYou'll tell her you couldn't sit down in her presence undressed
A generous enemy is a friend on the wrong sideAll are friends who sit at tableBe what you seem, my little oneBed was a rock of refuge and fortified defenceCivil tongue and rosy smiles sweeten even sour wineDangerous things are uttered after the third glassEverywhere the badge of subjection is a poor stomachFace betokening the perpetual smack of lemonGratitude never was a woman's giftIt was harder to be near and not closeLoving in this land: they all go mad, straight offNever reckon on womankind for a wise actSelf-incenseSign that the evil had reached from pricks to pokesSo are great deeds judged when the danger's past (as easy)Soft slumber of a strength never yet called forthSuspicion was her best witnessSweet treasure before which lies a dragon sleepingWe like well whatso we have done good work forWeak reeds who are easily vanquished and never overcomeWeak stomach is certainly more carnally virtuous than a full oneWins everywhere back a reflection of its own kindliness
Can believe a woman to be any age when her cheeks are tintedModest are the most easily intoxicated when they sip at vanityNature is not of necessity always roaringOnly to be described in the tongue of auctioneersRespected the vegetable yet more than he esteemed the flowerShe seems honest, and that is the most we can hope of girlsSpare me that word "female" as long as you liveThe mildness of assured dictatorshipWhen we see our veterans tottering to their fall
All flattery is at somebody's expenseBe philosophical, but accept your personal duesBut I leave it to youDistrust us, and it is a declaration of warHappiness in love is a match between ecstasy and complianceIf I do not speak of paymentIntellectual contempt of easy dupesInvite indecision to exhaust their scruplesIs not one month of brightness as much as we can ask for?No flattery for me at the expense of my sistersNothing desirable will you have which is not covetedPrimitive appetite for noiseShe might turn out good, if well guarded for a timeThe alternative is, a garter and the bedpostThey miss their pleasure in pursuing itThis mania of young people for pleasure, eternal pleasureWits, which are ordinarily less productive than land
Adversary at once offensive and helpless provokes brutalityCauses him to be popularly weighedDistinguished by his not allowing himself to be provokedEccentric behaviour in triflesExcited, glad of catastrophe if it but killed monotonyGenerally he noticed nothingGood jokes are not always good policyI make a point of never recommending my own houseIndulged in their privilege of thinking what they likedInfants are said to have their ideas, and why not young ladies?Lend him your own generosityMen love to boast of things nobody else has seenNaughtily Australian and kangaroolyNot in love—She was only not unwilling to be in loveRich and poor 's all right, if I'm rich and you're poorShe began to feel that this was life in earnestShe dealt in the flashes which connect ideasShe sought, by looking hard, to understand it betterSunning itself in the glass of EnvyThat which fine cookery does for the cementing of couplesThe intricate, which she takes for the infiniteTossed him from repulsion to incredulity, and so backTwo principal roads by which poor sinners come to a conscience
A wise man will not squander his laughter if he can help itA woman is hurt if you do not confide to her your plansGentleman in a good state of preservationImparting the usual chorus of yesses to his own mindIn every difficulty, patience is a life-beltKnew my friend to be one of the most absent-minded of menRapture of obliviousnessTelling her anything, she makes half a face in anticipationWhen you have done laughing with her, you can laugh at her
A great oration may be a sedativeA male devotee is within an inch of a miracleAbove Nature, I tell him, or, we shall be very much belowAs in all great oratory! The key of it is the pathosBack from the altar to discover that she has chained herselfCupid clipped of wing is a destructive parasiteExcess of a merit is a capital offence in moralityHis idea of marriage is, the taking of the woman into custodyI am a discordant instrument I do not readily vibrateI like him, I like him, of course, but I want to breatheI who respect the state of marriage by refusingLove and war have been compared—Both require strategyPeace, I do pray, for the husband-haunted wifePeriod of his life a man becomes too voraciously constantPitiful conceit in menRejoicing they have in their common agreementSelf-worship, which is often self-distrustSuspects all young men and most young womenTheir idol pitched before them on the floorWere I chained, For liberty I would sell libertyWoman descending from her ideal to the gross reality of manYour devotion craves an enormous exchange
A very doubtful benefitAmericans forgivingly remember, without mentioningAs becomes them, they do not look aheadCharges of cynicism are common against all satiristsFourth of the GeorgesHere and there a plain good soul to whom he was affectionateHoly images, and other miraculous objects are soldIt is well to learn manners without having them imposed on usMen overweeningly in love with their creationsMust be the moralist in the satirist if satire is to strikeNot a page of his books reveals malevolence or a sneerPetty concessions are signs of weakness to the unsatisfiedStatesman who stooped to conquer fact through fictionThe social world he looked at did not show him heroesThe exhaustion ensuing we named tranquillityUtterance of generous and patriotic cries is not sufficientWe trust them or we crush themWe grew accustomed to periods of Irish fever
A wise man will not squander his laughter if he can help itA woman is hurt if you do not confide to her your plansA generous enemy is a friend on the wrong sideA very doubtful benefitA great oration may be a sedativeA male devotee is within an inch of a miracleAbove Nature, I tell him, or, we shall be very much belowAdversary at once offensive and helpless provokes brutalityAll are friends who sit at tableAll flattery is at somebody's expenseAmericans forgivingly remember, without mentioningAs becomes them, they do not look aheadAs in all great oratory! The key of it is the pathosBack from the altar to discover that she has chained herselfBe what you seem, my little oneBe philosophical, but accept your personal duesBed was a rock of refuge and fortified defenceBut I leave it to youCan believe a woman to be any age when her cheeks are tintedCauses him to be popularly weighedCharges of cynicism are common against all satiristsCivil tongue and rosy smiles sweeten even sour wineCupid clipped of wing is a destructive parasiteDangerous things are uttered after the third glassDistinguished by his not allowing himself to be provokedDistrust us, and it is a declaration of warEccentric behaviour in triflesEverywhere the badge of subjection is a poor stomachExcess of a merit is a capital offence in moralityExcited, glad of catastrophe if it but killed monotonyFace betokening the perpetual smack of lemonFourth of the GeorgesGenerally he noticed nothingGentleman in a good state of preservationGood jokes are not always good policyGratitude never was a woman's giftHappiness in love is a match between ecstasy and complianceHere and there a plain good soul to whom he was affectionateHis idea of marriage is, the taking of the woman into custodyHoly images, and other miraculous objects are soldI who respect the state of marriage by refusingI make a point of never recommending my own houseI like him, I like him, of course, but I want to breatheI am a discordant instrument I do not readily vibrateIf I do not speak of paymentImparting the usual chorus of yesses to his own mindIn every difficulty, patience is a life-beltIndulged in their privilege of thinking what they likedInfants are said to have their ideas, and why not young ladies?Intellectual contempt of easy dupesInvite indecision to exhaust their scruplesIs not one month of brightness as much as we can ask for?It was harder to be near and not closeIt is well to learn manners without having them imposed on usKnew my friend to be one of the most absent-minded of menLend him your own generosityLove and war have been compared—Both require strategyLoving in this land: they all go mad, straight offMen love to boast of things nobody else has seenMen overweeningly in love with their creationsModest are the most easily intoxicated when they sip at vanityMust be the moralist in the satirist if satire is to strikeNature is not of necessity always roaringNaughtily Australian and kangaroolyNever reckon on womankind for a wise actNo flattery for me at the expense of my sistersNot a page of his books reveals malevolence or a sneerNot in love—She was only not unwilling to be in loveNothing desirable will you have which is not covetedOnly to be described in the tongue of auctioneersPeace, I do pray, for the husband-haunted wifePeriod of his life a man becomes too voraciously constantPetty concessions are signs of weakness to the unsatisfiedPitiful conceit in menPrimitive appetite for noiseRapture of obliviousnessRejoicing they have in their common agreementRespected the vegetable yet more than he esteemed the flowerRich and poor 's all right, if I'm rich and you're poorSelf-incenseSelf-worship, which is often self-distrustShe seems honest, and that is the most we can hope of girlsShe sought, by looking hard, to understand it betterShe might turn out good, if well guarded for a timeShe began to feel that this was life in earnestShe dealt in the flashes which connect ideasSign that the evil had reached from pricks to pokesSo are great deeds judged when the danger's past (as easy)Soft slumber of a strength never yet called forthSpare me that word "female" as long as you liveStatesman who stooped to conquer fact through fictionSunning itself in the glass of EnvySuspects all young men and most young womenSuspicion was her best witnessSweet treasure before which lies a dragon sleepingTelling her anything, she makes half a face in anticipationThat which fine cookery does for the cementing of couplesThe intricate, which she takes for the infiniteThe social world he looked at did not show him heroesThe alternative is, a garter and the bedpostThe exhaustion ensuing we named tranquillityThe mildness of assured dictatorshipTheir idol pitched before them on the floorThey miss their pleasure in pursuing itThis mania of young people for pleasure, eternal pleasureTossed him from repulsion to incredulity, and so backTwo principal roads by which poor sinners come to a conscienceUtterance of generous and patriotic cries is not sufficientWe grew accustomed to periods of Irish feverWe like well whatso we have done good work forWe trust them or we crush themWeak reeds who are easily vanquished and never overcomeWeak stomach is certainly more carnally virtuous than a full oneWere I chained, For liberty I would sell libertyWhen we see our veterans tottering to their fallWhen you have done laughing with her, you can laugh at herWins everywhere back a reflection of its own kindlinessWits, which are ordinarily less productive than landWoman descending from her ideal to the gross reality of manYour devotion craves an enormous exchange