Beautiful women in her position provoke an intemperateness Capricious potentate whom they worship Circumstances may combine to make a whisper as deadly as a blow Compared the governing of the Irish to the management of a horse Could have designed this gabbler for the mate Debit was eloquent, he was unanswerable Explaining of things to a dull head Happy in privation and suffering if simply we can accept beauty He gained much by claiming little Her peculiar tenacity of the sense of injury His ridiculous equanimity Keep passion sober, a trotter in harness Moral indignation is ever consolatory Omnipotence, which is in the image of themselves Strain to see in the utter dark, and nothing can come of that Tendency to polysyllabic phraseology The blindness of Fortune is her one merit They have no sensitiveness, we have too much Top and bottom sin is cowardice Touch him with my hand, before he passed from our sight We must fawn in society We never see peace but in the features of the dead DIANA OF THE CROSSWAYS, V4 [GM#74][GM74V10.TXT]4468 A high wind will make a dead leaf fly like a bird Beware the silent one of an assembly! Brittle is foredoomed Common sense is the secret of every successful civil agitation Its glee at a catastrophe; its poor stock of mercy Money is of course a rough test of virtue Salt of earth, to whom their salt must serve for nourishment Sentimentality puts up infant hands for absolution She herself did not like to be seen eating in public Slightest taste for comic analysis that does not tumble to farce The greed of gain is our volcano The man had to be endured, like other doses in politics Vagrant compassionateness of sentimentalists What might have been What the world says, is what the wind says Without those consolatory efforts, useless between men DIANA OF THE CROSSWAYS, V5 [GM#75][GM75V10.TXT]4469