Made many of my acquaintances very tired of my favorite authors Made them talk as seldom man and never woman talked Malevolent agitators Man is strange to himself as long as he lives Man who had so much of the boy in him Man who may any moment be out of work is industrially a slave Marriages are what the parties to them alone really know Married Man: after the first start-off he don't try Meet here to the purpose of a common ostentation Mellow cordial of a voice that was like no other Men read the newspapers, but our women read the books Men's lives ended where they began, in the keeping of women Met with kindness, if not honor Mind and soul were with those who do the hard work of the world Mind of a man is the court of final appeal for the wisest women Morbid egotism Most desouthernized Southerner I ever knew Most journalists would have been literary men if they could Most serious, the most humane, the most conscientious of men Motives lie nearer the surface than most people commonly pretend Mustache, which in those days devoted a man to wickedness My own youth now seems to me rather more alien My reading gave me no standing among the boys Napoleonic height which spiritually overtops the Alps Nearly nothing as chaos could be Neatness that brings despair Never saw a man more regardful of negroes Never paid in anything but hopes of paying Never quite sure of life unless I find literature in it Never appeals to the principle which sniffs, in his reader Never saw a dead man whom he did not envy New England necessity of blaming some one No greatness, no beauty, which does not come from truth No man more perfectly sensed and more entirely abhorred slavery No man ever yet told the truth about himself No rose blooms right along No two men see the same star No greatness, no beauty, which does not come from truth No object in life except to deprive it of all object Noble uselessness None of the passions are reasoned Not quite himself till he had made you aware of his quality Not possible for Clemens to write like anybody else Not much patience with the unmanly craving for sympathy Not a man who cared to transcend; he liked bounds Nothing in the way of sport, as people commonly understand it Novels hurt because they are not true Now little notion what it was about, but I love its memory Now death has come to join its vague conjectures NYC, a city where money counts for more and goes for less Odious hilarity, without meaning and without remission Offers mortifyingly mean, and others insultingly vague Old man's disposition to speak of his infirmities Old man's tendency to revert to the past One could be openly poor in Cambridge without open shame Only one concerned who was quite unconcerned Openly depraved by shows of wealth Ought not to call coarse without calling one's self prudish Our huckstering civilization Outer integument of pretence Passive elegance which only ancestral uselessness can give Pathetic hopefulness