The woman side of him The next ten minutes will decide our destinies The terrible aggregate social woman The shots hit us behind you The spending, never harvesting, world The despot is alert at every issue, to every chance The banquet to be fervently remembered, should smoke The idea of love upon the lips of ordinary men, provoked Dahlia's irony The love that survives has strangled craving The thought stood in her eyes The proper defence for a nation is its history The born preacher we feel instinctively to be our foe The danger of a little knowledge of things is disputable The commonest things are the worst done The world is wise in its way The Pilgrim's Scrip remarks that: Young men take joy in nothing The divine afflatus of enthusiasm buoyed her no longer The king without his crown hath a forehead like the clown The overwise themselves hoodwink The kindest of men can be cruel The devil trusts nobody The majority, however, had been snatched out of this bliss The critic that sneers The habit of the defensive paralyzes will The intricate, which she takes for the infinite The exhaustion ensuing we named tranquillity The social world he looked at did not show him heroes The mildness of assured dictatorship The race is for domestic peace, my boy The embraced respected woman The divinely damnable naked truth won't wear ornaments The alternative is, a garter and the bedpost The curse of sorrow is comparison! The idol of the hour is the mob's wooden puppet The circle which the ladies of Brookfield were designing The wretch who fears death dies multitudinously Their hearts are eaten up by property Their sneer withers Their not caring to think at all Their way was down a green lane and across long meadow-paths Their idol pitched before them on the floor Then, if you will not tell me Then for us the struggle, for him the grief There is no first claim There is no history of events below the surface There is more in men and women than the stuff they utter There were joy-bells for Robert and Rhoda, but none for Dahlia There is no driver like stomach There are women who go through life not knowing love There is little to be learnt when a little is known There is for the mind but one grasp of happiness There is no step backward in life There may be women who think as well as feel; I don't know them 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 There's nothing like a metaphor for an evasion They laugh, but they laugh extinguishingly They do not live; they are engines They helped her to feel at home with herself They have not to speak to exhibit their minds They have their thinking done for them They had all noticed, seen, and observed They, meantime, who had a contempt for sleep They may know how to make themselves happy in their climate They are little ironical laughter--Accidents They seem to me to be educated to conceal their education They dare not. The more I dare, the less dare they