Not his fault that half the world was dark Nothing in that book to startle him or make him think Of course! The words seemed very much or very little One from whom the half of life must be excluded Overwork personified Potent law of hobbies controlled the upper classes Professional intolerance Putting into words things that can't be put in words Secret that her eyes were not his eyes Settled down to complete the purchase of his wife. She had not resisted, but he had kissed the smile away Sign of private moral judgment was to have lost your soul Something new, and spiced with tragic sauce Supplied with their convictions by Society Sympathy that has no insight To do nothing is unworthy of a man! Too "smart" to keep their heads for long above the water Truth 's the very devil Unconscious that they themselves were funny to others Weighty dignity of attitude Well, I don't want to see the gloomy side What humbugs we all are What they do not understand they dread and they despise What's called virtue is nearly always only luck When we begin to be real, we only really begin to be false Words the Impostors THE COUNTRY HOUSE /gutenberg/etext01/chous10.txt PASSAGES FROM THE TEXT: You want to build before you've laid your foundations," said Mr. Paramor. "You let your feelings carry you away. Next to him was Mrs. Hussell Barter, with that touching look to be seen on the faces of many English ladies, that look of women who are always doing their duty, their rather painful duty; whose eyes, above cheeks creased and withered, once rose-leaf hued, now over-coloured by strong weather, are starry and anxious; whose speech is simple, sympathetic, direct, a little shy, a little hopeless, yet always hopeful; who are ever surrounded by children, invalids, old people, all looking to them for support; who have never known the luxury of breaking down. The Rector, who practically never suffered, disliked the thought and sight of others' suffering. Up to this day, indeed, there had been none to dislike, for in answer to inquiries his wife had always said "No, dear, no; I'm all right--really, it's nothing." And she had always said it smiling, even when her smiling lips were white. But this morning in trying to say it she had failed to smile. Her eyes had lost their hopelessly hopeful shining, and sharply between her teeth she said: "Send for Dr. Wilson, Hussell." Man who, having turned all social problems over in his mind, had decided that there was no real safety but in the past. LINES FROM THE TEXT: