Irony in him is only eulogy standing on its head
Irony that seemed to spring from
aversion
Irony instead of eloquence
Irony provoked his laughter more than fun
Irritability at the intrusion of past disputes
Is he jealous? ‘Only when I make him, he is.’
Is not one month of brightness as much as we can ask for?
Is it any waste of time to write of
love?
It ‘s us hard ones that get on best in the world
It was harder to be near and not close
It is not high flying, which usually
ends in heavy falling
It is no insignificant contest when
love has to crush self-love
It would be hard! ay, then we do it
forthwith
It was as if she had been eyeing a
golden door shut fast
It is the best of signs when women take to her
It was his ill luck to have strong
appetites and a weak stomach
It rarely astonishes our ears It
illumines our souls
It goes at the lifting of the
bridegroom’s little finger
It was an honest buss, but dear at ten thousand
It is well to learn manners without
having them imposed on us
It was in a time before our joyful era of universal equality
It is the devil’s masterstroke to get us to accuse him
It was her prayer to heaven that she
might save a doctor’s bill
It is better for us both, of course
It was now, as Sir Austin had written it down, The Magnetic Age
It is no use trying to conceal anything from him
It’s a fool that hopes for peace
anywhere
It’s no use trying to be a gentleman if you can’t pay for it
Italians were like women, and wanted–a real beating
Its glee at a catastrophe; its poor
stock of mercy
January was watering and freezing old earth by turns
Judgeing of the destiny of man by the fate of individuals
Just bad inquirin’ too close among men
Keep passion sober, a trotter in
harness
Kelts, as they are called, can’t and
won’t forgive injuries
Kindness is kindness, all over the
world
Knew my friend to be one of the most
absent-minded of men
Lack of precise words admonished him of the virtue of silence
Land and beasts! They sound like
blessed things
Lawyers hold the keys of the great
world
Lay no petty traps for opportunity
Laying of ghosts is a public duty
Leader accustomed to count ahead upon vapourish abstractions
Learn all about them afterwards, ay,
and make the best of them
Learn–principally not to be afraid of ideas
Led him to impress his unchangeableness upon her
Lend him your own generosity
Lengthened term of peace bred maggots in the heads of the people
Lest thou commence to lie–be dumb!
Let but the throb be kept for others– That is the one secret
Let never Necessity draw the bow of our weakness
Let none of us be so exalted above the wit of daily life
Levelling a finger at the taxpayer
Lies are usurers’ coin we pay for ten thousand per cent
Life is the burlesque of young dreams
Like a woman, who would and would not, and wanted a master
Like an ill-reared fruit, first at the core it rotteth
Limit was two bottles of port wine at a sitting
Listened to one another, and blinded
the world
Literature is a good stick and a bad
horse
Little boy named Tommy Wedger said he saw a dead body go by
Littlenesses of which women are accused
Loathing of artifice to raise emotion
Loathing for speculation
Longing for love and dependence
Look within, and avoid lying
Look well behind
Look backward only to correct an error of conduct in future
Looked as proud as if he had just
clapped down the full amount
Looking on him was listening
Loudness of the interrogation precluded thought of an answer
Love, with his accustomed cunning
Love the poor devil
Love dies like natural decay
Love the children of Erin, when not
fretted by them
Love of men and women as a toy that I have played with
Love of pleasure keeps us blind
children
Love and war have been compared–Both require strategy
Love that shrieks at a mortal wound,
and bleeds humanly
Love discerns unerringly what is and
what is not duty
Love must needs be an egoism
Love is a contagious disease
Love the difficulty better than the
woman
Love, that has risen above emotion,
quite independent of craving
Love’s a selfish business one has work in hand
Loves his poets, can almost understand what poetry means
Loving in this land: they all go mad, straight off
Lucky accidents are anticipated only by fools
Made of his creed a strait-jacket for humanity
Madness that sane men enamoured can be struck by
Magnificent in generosity; he had
little humaneness
Magnify an offence in the ratio of our vanity
Make no effort to amuse him. He is
always occupied
Make a girl drink her tears, if they
ain’t to be let fall
Making too much of it–a trick of the vulgar
Man with a material object in aim, is the man of his object
Man who beats his wife my first
question is, ‘Do he take his tea?’
Man owes a duty to his class
Man who helps me to read the world and men as they are
Man without a penny in his pocket, and a gizzard full of pride
Mankind is offended by heterodoxy in
mean attire
Mare would do, and better than a dozen horses
Mark of a fool to take everybody for a bigger fool than himself
Marriage is an awful thing, where
there’s no love
Married at forty, and I had to take her shaped as she was
Married a wealthy manufacturer–
bartered her blood for his money
Martyrs of love or religion are madmen
Material good reverses its benefits the more nearly we clasp it
Matter that is not nourishing to brains
Maxims of her own on the subject of
rising and getting the worm
May lull themselves with their
wakefulness
May not one love, not craving to be
beloved?
Meant to vanquish her with the
dominating patience
Meditations upon the errors of the
general man, as a cover
Memory inspired by the sensations
Men overweeningly in love with their
creations
Men do not play truant from home at
sixty years of age
Men they regard as their natural prey
Men bore the blame, though the women
were rightly punished
Men must fight: the law is only a
quieter field for them
Men in love are children with their
mistresses
Men love to boast of things nobody else has seen
Men who believe that there is a virtue in imprecations
Men had not pleased him of late
Mental and moral neuters
Metaphysician’s treatise on Nature: a torch to see the sunrise
Mighty Highnesses who had only smelt
the outside edge of battle
Mika! you did it in cold blood?
Mindless, he says, and arrogant
Minutes taken up by the grey puffs from their mouths
Mistake of the world is to think
happiness possible to the sense
Mistaking of her desires for her
reasons
Modest are the most easily intoxicated when they sip at vanity
Money is of course a rough test of
virtue
Money’s a chain-cable for holding men to their senses
Moral indignation is ever consolatory
Morales, madame, suit ze sun
More argument I cannot bear
More culpable the sparer than the
spared
Most youths are like Pope’s women; they have no character
Mrs. Fleming, of Queen Anne’s Farm, was the wife of a yeoman
Music was resumed to confuse the
hearing of the eavesdroppers
Music in Italy? Amorous and martial,
brainless and monotonous
Must be the moralist in the satirist if satire is to strike
Mutual deference
My engagement to Mr. Pericles is that I am not to write
My mistress! My glorious stolen fruit! My dark angel of love
My plain story is of two Kentish
damsels
My first girl–she’s brought disgrace on this house
My belief is, you do it on purpose.
Can’t be such rank idiots
My voice! I have my voice! Emilia had cried it out to herself
Naked original ideas, are acceptable at no time
Napoleon’s treatment of women is
excellent example
Nation’s half made-up of the idle and the servants of the idle
Nations at war are wild beasts
Naturally as deceived as he wished to be
Nature and Law never agreed
Nature is not of necessity always
roaring
Nature could at a push be eloquent to defend the guilty
Nature’s logic, Nature’s voice, for
self-defence
Naughtily Australian and kangarooly
Necessary for him to denounce somebody
Necessity’s offspring
Needed support of facts, and feared
them
Never reckon on womankind for a wise
act
Never, never love a married woman
Never intended that we should play with flesh and blood
Never forget that old Ireland is
weeping
Never forgave an injury without a
return blow for it
Never to despise the good opinion of
the nonentities
Never nurse an injury, great or small
Never was a word fitter for a quack’s mouth than “humanity”
Never fell far short of outstripping
the sturdy pedestrian Time
Never pretend to know a girl by her
face
Nevertheless, inclinations are an
infidelity
Next door to the Last Trump
Night has little mercy for the
self-reproachful
No nose to the hero, no moral to the
tale
No runner can outstrip his fate
No companionship save with the wound
they nurse
No Act to compel a man to deny what
appears in the papers
No great harm done when you’re silent
No heart to dare is no heart to love!
No stopping the Press while the people have an appetite for it
No word is more lightly spoken than
shame
No flattery for me at the expense of my sisters
No man has a firm foothold who pretends to it
No enemy’s shot is equal to a weak
heart in the act
No man can hear the words which prove him a prophet (quietly)
No conversation coming of it, her
curiosity was violent
No intoxication of hot blood to cheer those who sat at home
No case is hopeless till a man consents to think it is
No love can be without jealousy
No! Gentlemen don’t fling stones; leave that to the blackguards
None but fanatics, cowards,
white-eyeballed dogmatists
Nor can a protest against coarseness be sweepingly interpreted
Not every chapter can be sunshine
Not afford to lose, and a disposition free of the craving to win
Not men of brains, but the men of
aptitudes
Not the indignant and the frozen, but the genially indifferent
Not daring risk of office by offending the taxpayer
Not in love–She was only not unwilling to be in love
Not a page of his books reveals
malevolence or a sneer
Not always the right thing to do the
right thing
Not to do things wholly is worse than not to do things at all
Not to be feared more than are the
general race of bunglers
Not much esteem for non-professional
actresses
Not in a situation that could bear of her blaming herself
Not so much read a print as read the
imprinting on themselves
Not to go hunting and fawning for
alliances
Not to bother your wits, but leave the puzzle to the priest
Not to be the idol, to have an aim of our own
Not the great creatures we assume
ourselves to be
Not likely to be far behind curates in besieging an heiress
Nothing is a secret that has been
spoken
Nothing desirable will you have which is not coveted
Nothing the body suffers that the soul may not profit by
Notoriously been above the honours of grammar
Nought credit but what outward orbs
reveal
Now far from him under the failure of an effort to come near
Nursing of a military invalid awakens tenderer anxieties
O for yesterday!
O self! self! self!
O heaven! of what avail is human
effort?
Obedience oils necessity
Obeseness is the most sensitive of our ailments
Objects elevated even by a decayed
world have their magnetism
Observation is the most, enduring of
the pleasures of life
Occasional instalments–just to freshen the account
Official wrath at sound of footfall or a fancied one
Oggler’s genial piety made him shrink with nausea
Oh! beastly bathos
Oh! I can’t bear that class of people
Old houses are doomed to burnings
Old age is a prison wall between us and young people
Omnipotence, which is in the image of themselves
On a morning when day and night were
made one by fog
On the threshold of Puberty, there is one Unselfish Hour
On which does the eye linger longest– which draws the heart?
On a wild April morning
Once my love? said he. Not now?–does it mean, not now?
Once out of the rutted line, you are
food for lion and jackal
Once called her beautiful; his praise had given her beauty
One wants a little animation in a
husband
One who studies is not being a fool
One is a fish to her hook; another a
moth to her light
One might build up a respectable figure in negatives
One in a temper at a time I’m sure ‘s enough
One night, and her character’s gone
One learns to have compassion for
fools, by studying them
One has to feel strong in a delicate
position
One of those men whose characters are read off at a glance
One seed of a piece of folly will lurk and sprout to confound us
One idea is a bullet
One fool makes many, and so, no doubt, does one goose
Only to be described in the tongue of auctioneers
Only true race, properly so called, out of India–German
Opened a wider view of the world to
him, and a colder
Openly treated; all had an air of being on the surface
Optional marriages, broken or renewed every seven years
Or where you will, so that’s in Ireland
Oratory will not work against the
stream, or on languid tides
Orderliness, from which men are
privately exempt
Our most diligent pupil learns not so much as an earnest teacher
Our weakness is the swiftest dog to
hunt us
Our partner is our master
Our comedies are frequently youth’s
tragedies
Our life is but a little holding, lent To do a mighty labour
Our bravest, our best, have an impulse to run
Our lawyers have us inside out, like
our physicians
Our love and labour are constantly on trial
Owner of such a woman, and to lose her!
Pact between cowardice and comfort
under the title of expediency
Pain is a cloak that wraps you about
Paint themselves pure white, to the
obliteration of minor spots
Parliament, is the best of occupations for idle men
Partake of a morning draught
Passion, he says, is noble strength on fire
Passion is not invariably love
Passion added to a bowl of reason makes a sophist’s mess
Passion does not inspire dark appetite– Dainty innocence does
Past, future, and present, the three
weights upon humanity
Past fairness, vaguely like a snow
landscape in the thaw
Patience is the pestilence
Patronizing woman
Paying compliments and spoiling a game!
Payment is no more so than to restore money held in trust
Peace-party which opposed was the
actual cause of the war
Peace, I do pray, for the
husband-haunted wife
Pebble may roll where it likes–not so the costly jewel
Peculiar subdued form of laughter
through the nose
People of a provocative prosperity
People were virtuous in past days: they counted their sinners
People with whom a mute conformity is as good as worship
People who can lose themselves in a ray of fancy at any season
People is one of your Radical big words that burst at a query
Perhaps inspire him, if he would let
her breathe
Period of his life a man becomes too
voraciously constant
Persist, if thou wouldst truly reach
thine ends
Person in another world beyond this
world of blood
Perused it, and did not recognize
herself in her language
Pessimy is invulnerable
Petty concessions are signs of weakness to the unsatisfied
Philip was a Spartan for keeping his
feelings under
Philosophy skimmed, and realistic
romances deep-sounded
Pitiful conceit in men
Planting the past in the present like a perceptible ghost
Play the great game of blunders
Play second fiddle without looking
foolish
Pleasant companion, who did not play
the woman obtrusively among men
Please to be pathetic on that subject after I am wrinkled
Pleasure-giving laws that make the
curves we recognize as beauty
Pleasure sat like an inextinguishable light on her face
Poetic romance is delusion
Policy seems to petrify their minds
Polished barbarism
Politics as well as the other diseases
Poor mortals are not in the habit of
climbing Olympus to ask
Portrait of himself by the artist
Practical or not, the good people
affectingly wish to be
Practical for having an addiction to
the palpable
Prayer for an object is the cajolery of an idol
Press, which had kindled, proceeded to extinguished
Presumptuous belief
Pride in being always myself
Pride is the God of Pagans
Primitive appetite for noise
Principle of examining your hypothesis before you proceed to decide by it
Procrastination and excessive
scrupulousness
Professional widows
Professional Puritans
Profound belief in her partiality for him
Propitiate common sense on behalf of
what seems tolerably absurd
Protestant clergy the social police of the English middle-class
Providence and her parents were not
forgiven
Published Memoirs indicate the end of a man’s activity
Puns are the smallpox of the language
Push me to condense my thoughts to a
tight ball
Push indolent unreason to gain the
delusion of happiness
Put material aid at a lower mark than gentleness
Put into her woman’s harness of the bit and the blinkers
Puzzle to connect the foregoing and the succeeding
Question the gain of such an
expenditure of energy
Question with some whether idiots
should live
Quick to understand, she is in the
quick of understanding
Quixottry is agreeable reading, a silly performance
Rage of a conceited schemer tricked
Rapture of obliviousness
Rare as epic song is the man who is
thorough in what he does
Rare men of honour who can command
their passion
Rarely exacted obedience, and she was spontaneously obeyed
Read deep and not be baffled by
inconsistencies
Read with his eyes when you meet him
this morning
Read one another perfectly in their
mutual hypocrisies
Ready is the ardent mind to take
footing on the last thing done
Real happiness is a state of dulness
Rebellion against society and advocacy of humanity run counter
Rebukes which give immeasurable
rebounds
Recalling her to the subject-matter
with all the patience
Reflection upon a statement is its
lightning in advance
Refuge in the Castle of Negation
against the whole army of facts
Regularity of the grin of dentistry
Rejoicing they have in their common
agreement
Religion condones offences: Philosophy has no forgiveness
Religion is the one refuge from women
Reluctant to take the life of flowers for a whim
Remarked that the young men must fight it out together
Repeatedly, in contempt of the disgust of iteration
Reproof of such supererogatory counsel
Requiring natural services from her in the button department
Respect one another’s affectations
Respected the vegetable yet more than he esteemed the flower
Revived for them so much of themselves
Rewards, together with the
expectations, of the virtuous
Rhoda will love you. She is firm when she loves
Rich and poor ‘s all right, if I’m rich and you’re poor
Ripe with oft telling and old is the
tale
Rogue on the tremble of detection
Rose was much behind her age
Rose! what have I done? ‘Nothing at
all,’ she said
Rumour for the nonce had a stronger
spice of truth than usual
Said she was what she would have given her hand not to be
Salt of earth, to whom their salt must serve for nourishment
Satirist too devotedly loves his lash to be a persuasive teacher
Satirist is an executioner by
profession
Says you’re so clever you ought to be a man
Scorn titles which did not distinguish practical offices
Scorned him for listening to the
hesitations (hers)
Scotchman’s metaphysics; you know
nothing clear
Screams of an uninjured lady
Second fiddle; he could only mean what she meant
Secret of the art was his meaning what he said
Secrets throw on the outsiders the onus of raising a scandal
Seed-Time passed thus smoothly, and
adolescence came on
Self-consoled when they are not
self-justified
Self, was digging pits for comfort to flow in
Self-incense
Self-worship, which is often
self-distrust
Self-deceiver may be a persuasive
deceiver of another
Selfishness and icy inaccessibility to emotion
Semblance of a tombstone lady beside
her lord
Sense, even if they can’t understand
it, flatters them so
Sensitiveness to the sting, which is
not allowed to poison
Sentimentality puts up infant hands for absolution
Serene presumption
Service of watering the dry and drying the damp (Whiskey)
Seventy, when most men are reaping and stacking their sins
Sham spiritualism
Share of foulness to them that are for scouring the chamber
She marries, and it’s the end of her
sparkling
She seems honest, and that is the most we can hope of girls
She had sunk her intelligence in her
sensations
She had a fatal attraction for antiques
She had great awe of the word
‘business’
She ran through delusion and delusion, exhausting each
She, not disinclined to dilute her
grief
She was unworthy to be the wife of a
tailor
She did not detest the Countess because she could not like her
She endured meekly, when there was no meekness
She was perhaps a little the taller of the two
She thought that friendship was sweeter than love
She herself did not like to be seen
eating in public
She had a thirsting mind
She was sick of personal freedom
She believed friendship practicable
between men and women
She had to be the hypocrite or else– leap
She was at liberty to weep if she
pleased
She felt in him a maker of facts
She was not his match–To speak would be to succumb
She disdained to question the mouth
which had bitten her
She had no longer anything to resent: she was obliged to weep
She stood with a dignity that the word did not express
She dealt in the flashes which connect ideas
She began to feel that this was life in earnest
She might turn out good, if well
guarded for a time
She sought, by looking hard, to
understand it better
She was thrust away because because he had offended
She seemed really a soaring bird
brought down by the fowler
She can make puddens and pies
She was not, happily, one of the women who betray strong feeling
Should we leave a good deed half done
Showery, replied the admiral, as his
cocked-hat was knocked off
Shun comparisons
Shuns the statuesque pathetic, or any kind of posturing
Sign that the evil had reached from
pricks to pokes
Silence and such signs are like
revelations in black night
Silence was their only protection to
the Nice Feelings
Silence is commonly the slow poison
used by those who mean to murder love
Silence was doing the work of a scourge
Simple obstinacy of will sustained her
Simple affection must bear the strain of friendship if it can
Simplicity is the keenest weapon
Sincere as far as she knew: as far as one who loves may be
Sinners are not to repent only in words
Slap and pinch and starve our appetites
Slave of existing conventions
Slaves of the priests
Sleepless night
Slightest taste for comic analysis that does not tumble to farce
Small beginnings, which are in reality the mighty barriers
Small things producing great
consequences
Smallest of our gratifications in life could give a happy tone
Smart remarks have their measured
distances
Smile she had in reserve for
serviceable persons
Smoky receptacle cherishing millions
Smothered in its pudding-bed of the
grotesque (obesity)
Snatch her from a possessor who
forfeited by undervaluing her
Snuffle of hypocrisy in her prayer
So the frog telleth tadpoles
So it is when you play at Life! When
you will not go straight
So long as we do not know that we are performing any remarkable feat
So says the minute Years are before
you
So indulgent when they drop their blot on a lady’s character
So much for morality in those days!
So are great deeds judged when the
danger’s past (as easy)
Socially and politically mean one thing in the end
Soft slumber of a strength never yet
called forth
Solitude is pasturage for a suspicion
Some so-called laws of honour
Something of the hare in us when the
hounds are full cry
Sort of religion with her to believe no wrong of you
South-western Island has few
attractions to other than invalids
Spare me that word “female” as long as you live
Speech that has to be hauled from the depths usually betrays
Speech is poor where emotion is extreme
Speech was a scourge to her sense of
hearing
Spiritualism, and on the balm that it was
Stand not in my way, nor follow me too far
Startled by the criticism in laughter
State of feverish patriotism
Statesman who stooped to conquer fact through fiction
Statistics are according to their
conjurors
Steady shakes them
Story that she believed indeed, but had not quite sensibly felt
Strain to see in the utter dark, and
nothing can come of that
Straining for common talk, and showing the strain
Strength in love is the sole sincerity
Strengthening the backbone for a bend of the knee in calamity
Stultification of one’s feelings and
ideas
Style is the mantle of greatness
Style resembling either early
architecture or utter dilapidation
Subterranean recess for Nature against the Institutions of Man
Such a man was banned by the world,
which was to be despised?
Suggestion of possible danger might
more dangerous than silence
Sunning itself in the glass of Envy
Suspects all young men and most young women
Suspicion was her best witness
Sweet treasure before which lies a
dragon sleeping
Sweetest on earth to her was to be
prized by her brother
Swell and illuminate citizen prose to a princely poetic
Sympathy is for proving, not prating
Taint of the hypocrisy which comes with shame
Take ’em somethin’ like Providence–as they come
Taking oath, as it were, by their lower nature
Tale, which leaves the man’s mind at
home
Task of reclaiming a bad man is
extremely seductive to good women
Taste a wound from the lightest touch, and they nurse the venom
Tears of such a man have more of blood than of water in them
Tears are the way of women and their
comfort
Tears that dried as soon as they had
served their end
Tears of men sink plummet-deep
Telling her anything, she makes half a face in anticipation
Tendency to polysyllabic phraseology
Tenderness which Mrs. Mel permitted
rather than encouraged
Tension of the old links keeping us
together
Terrible decree, that all must act who would prevail
That which fine cookery does for the
cementing of couples
That beautiful trust which habit gives
That a mask is a concealment
That fiery dragon, a beautiful woman
with brains
That sort of progenitor is your
“permanent aristocracy”
That plain confession of a lack of wit; he offered combat
That is life–when we dare death to
live!
That pit of one of their dead silences
That’s the natural shamrock, after the artificial
The exhaustion ensuing we named
tranquillity
The most dangerous word of all–ja
The impalpable which has prevailing
weight
The world is wise in its way
The danger of a little knowledge of
things is disputable
The infant candidate delights in his
honesty
The rider’s too heavy for the horse in England
The Pilgrim’s Scrip remarks that: Young men take joy in nothing
The tragedy of the mirror is one for a woman to write
The worst of it is, that we remember
The old confession, that we cannot
cook(The English)
The sentimentalists are represented by them among the civilized
The born preacher we feel instinctively to be our foe
The face of a stopped watch
The banquet to be fervently remembered, should smoke
The woman follows the man, and music
fits to verse,
The circle which the ladies of
Brookfield were designing
The majority, however, had been
snatched out of this bliss
The effects of the infinitely little
The way is clear: we have only to take the step
The devil trusts nobody
The divine afflatus of enthusiasm
buoyed her no longer
The weighty and the trivial contended
The backstairs of history (Memoirs)
The defensive is perilous policy in war
The family view is everlastingly the
shopkeeper’s
The unhappy, who do not wish to live, and cannot die
The homage we pay him flatters us
The worst of omens is delay
The people always wait for the winner
The healthy only are fit to live
The defensive is perilous policy in war
The past is our mortal mother, no dead thing
The wretch who fears death dies
multitudinously
The proper defence for a nation is its history
The thought stood in her eyes
The love that survives has strangled
craving
The grey furniture of Time for his
natural wear
The world without him would be heavy
matter
The despot is alert at every issue, to every chance
The spending, never harvesting, world
The shots hit us behind you
The terrible aggregate social woman
The next ten minutes will decide our
destinies
The woman side of him
The good life gone lives on in the mind
The beat of a heart with a dread like a shot in it
The girl could not know her own mind, for she suited him exactly
The critic that sneers
The blindness of Fortune is her one
merit
The religion of this vast English
middle-class–Comfort
The slavery of the love of a woman
chained
The idea of love upon the lips of
ordinary men, provoked Dahlia’s irony
The brainless in Art and in Statecraft
The well of true wit is truth itself
The debts we owe ourselves are the
hardest to pay
The greed of gain is our volcano
The burlesque Irishman can’t be
caricatured
The man had to be endured, like other doses in politics
The greater wounds do not immediately convince us of our fate
The system is cursed by nature, and
that means by heaven
The turn will come to us as to others– and go
The woman seeking for an anomaly wants a master
The language of party is eloquent
The philosopher (I would keep him back if I could)
The gallant cornet adored delicacy and a gilded refinement
The sentimentalist goes on accumulating images
The dismally-lighted city wore a look of Judgement terrible to see
The kindest of men can be cruel
The night went past as a year
The social world he looked at did not show him heroes
The overwise themselves hoodwink
The king without his crown hath a
forehead like the clown
The curse of sorrow is comparison!
The race is for domestic peace, my boy
The divinely damnable naked truth won’t wear ornaments
The idol of the hour is the mob’s
wooden puppet
The embraced respected woman
The habit of the defensive paralyzes
will
The intricate, which she takes for the infinite
The mildness of assured dictatorship
The alternative is, a garter and the
bedpost
The ass eats at my table, and treats me with contempt
The Countess dieted the vanity
according to the nationality
The letter had a smack of crabbed age hardly counterfeit
The commonest things are the worst done
The thrust sinned in its shrewdness
The power to give and take flattery to any amount
Their sneer withers
Their not caring to think at all
Their idol pitched before them on the floor
Their hearts are eaten up by property
Their way was down a green lane and
across long meadow-paths
Then for us the struggle, for him the grief
Then, if you will not tell me
There is little to be learnt when a
little is known
There is no history of events below the surface
There is no first claim
There is no step backward in life
There is more in men and women than the stuff they utter
There is no driver like stomach
There were joy-bells for Robert and
Rhoda, but none for Dahlia
There is for the mind but one grasp of happiness
There may be women who think as well as feel; I don’t know them
There are women who go through life not knowing love
There’s nothing like a metaphor for an evasion
There’s not an act of a man’s life lies dead behind him
There’s ne’er a worse off but there’s a better off
They have no sensitiveness, we have too much
They may know how to make themselves
happy in their climate
They dare not. The more I dare, the
less dare they
They have not to speak to exhibit their minds
They had all noticed, seen, and
observed
They seem to me to be educated to
conceal their education
They miss their pleasure in pursuing it
They could have pardoned her a younger lover
They take fever for strength, and
calmness for submission
They are little ironical laughter–
Accidents
They have their thinking done for them
They laugh, but they laugh
extinguishingly
They kissed coldly, pressed a hand,
said good night
They create by stoppage a volcano
They want you to show them what they ‘d like the world to be
They, meantime, who had a contempt for sleep
They believe that the angels have been busy about them
They helped her to feel at home with
herself
They do not live; they are engines
They’re always having to retire and
always hissing
Things are not equal
Things were lumpish and gloomy that day of the week
Thirst for the haranguing of crowds
This was a totally different case from the antecedent ones
This mania of young people for
pleasure, eternal pleasure
This love they rattle about and rave
about
This girl was pliable only to service, not to grief
This female talk of the eternities
Those happy men who enjoy perceptions without opinions
Those who know little and dread much
Those days of intellectual coxcombry
Those numerous women who always know
themselves to be right
Those whose humour consists of a
readiness to laugh
Those who have the careless chatter,
the ready laugh
Those who are rescued and made happy by circumstances
Thought of differences with him caused frightful apprehensions
Threatened powerful drugs for weak
stomachs
Threats of prayer, however, that harp upon their sincerity
Thus does Love avenge himself on the
unsatisfactory Past
Thus are we stricken by the days of our youth
Tight grasps of the hand, in which
there was warmth and shyness
Tighter than ever I was tight I’ll be to-night
Time and strength run to waste in
retarding the inevitable
Time is due to us, and the minutes are our gold slipping away
Time, whose trick is to turn corners of unanticipated sharpness
Times when an example is needed by
brave men
Tis the fashion to have our tattle done by machinery
Tis the first step that makes a path
Titles showered on the women who take free breath of air
To be a really popular hero anywhere in Britain (must be a drinker)
To hope, and not be impatient, is
really to believe
To males, all ideas are female until
they are made facts
To be both generally blamed, and
generally liked
To let people speak was a maxim of Mrs. Mel’s, and a wise one
To kill the deer and be sorry for the suffering wretch is common
To be passive in calamity is the
province of no woman
To the rest of the world he was a
progressive comedy
To know how to take a licking, that
wins in the end
To have no sympathy with the playful
mind is not to have a mind
To time and a wife it is no disgrace
for a man to bend
To know that you are in England,
breathing the same air with me
To be her master, however, one must not begin by writhing as her slave
To do nothing, is the wisdom of those who have seen fools perish
To most men women are knaves or ninnies
To beg the vote and wink the bribe
Tongue flew, thought followed
Too well used to defeat to believe
readily in victory
Too prompt, too full of personal relish of his point
Too many time-servers rot the State
Too weak to resist, to submit to an
outrage quietly
Too often hangs the house on one loose stone
Took care to be late, so that all eyes beheld her
Tooth that received a stone when it
expected candy
Top and bottom sin is cowardice
Tossed him from repulsion to
incredulity, and so back
Touch him with my hand, before he
passed from our sight
Touch sin and you accommodate yourself to its vileness
Touching a nerve
Toyed with little flowers of palest
memory
Tradesman, and he never was known to
have sent in a bill
Trial of her beauty of a woman in a
temper
Trick for killing time without hurting him
Tried to be honest, and was as much so as his disease permitted
Troublesome appendages of success
True love excludes no natural duty
True enjoyment of the princely
disposition
Trust no man Still, this man may be
better than that man
Truth is, they have taken a stain from