Heroine, in common with the hero, has her ambition to be of use
     His equanimity was fictitious
     His fancy performed miraculous feats
     How many instruments cannot clever women play upon
     Huntress with few scruples and the game unguarded
     I rather like to hear a woman swear.  It embellishes her! 
     I beg of my husband, and all kind people who may have the care
     I ain’t a speeder of matrimony
     I cannot get on with Gibbon
     In our House, my son, there is peculiar blood.  We go to wreck! 
     In Sir Austin’s Note-book was written:  “Between Simple Boyhood...” 
     Intensely communicative, but inarticulate
     It was his ill luck to have strong appetites and a weak stomach
     It is no use trying to conceal anything from him
     It was now, as Sir Austin had written it down, The Magnetic Age
     January was watering and freezing old earth by turns
     Just bad inquirin’ too close among men
     Laying of ghosts is a public duty
     Minutes taken up by the grey puffs from their mouths
     No!  Gentlemen don’t fling stones; leave that to the blackguards
     On the threshold of Puberty, there is one Unselfish Hour
     Opened a wider view of the world to him, and a colder
     Our most diligent pupil learns not so much as an earnest teacher
     Rogue on the tremble of detection
     Rumour for the nonce had a stronger spice of truth than usual
     Seed-Time passed thus smoothly, and adolescence came on
     Serene presumption
     She can make puddens and pies
     South-western Island has few attractions to other than invalids
     Take ’em somethin’ like Providence—­as they come
     Task of reclaiming a bad man is extremely seductive to good women
     The Pilgrim’s Scrip remarks that:  Young men take joy in nothing
     The world is wise in its way
     The danger of a little knowledge of things is disputable
     The born preacher we feel instinctively to be our foe
     There is for the mind but one grasp of happiness
     They believe that the angels have been busy about them
     This was a totally different case from the antecedent ones
     Those days of intellectual coxcombry
     Threats of prayer, however, that harp upon their sincerity
     To be passive in calamity is the province of no woman
     Troublesome appendages of success
     Unaccustomed to have his will thwarted
     Who rises from Prayer a better man, his prayer is answered
     Wise in not seeking to be too wise
     Woman will be the last thing civilized by Man
     Women are swift at coming to conclusions in these matters
     Yet, though Angels smile, shall not Devils laugh
     You’ve got no friend but your bed
     Young as when she looked upon the lovers in Paradise

SANDRA BELLONI

By George Meredith