A heart-break for that kind is their salvation
A man may be forgiven for a sin, but the effect remains
A look too bright for joy, too intense for despair
A sort of chuckle not entirely pleasant
A man you could bank on, and draw your interest reg’lar
A left-handed boy is all right in the world
A cloak of words to cover up the real thought behind
Aboriginal in all of us, who must have a sign for
an emotion
Aboriginal dispersion
Adaptability was his greatest weapon in life
Advantage to live where nothing was required of her
but truth
After which comes steady happiness or the devil to
pay (wedding)
Agony in thinking about the things we’re never
going to do
Ah, let it be soon! Ah, let him die soon!
Air of certainty and universal comprehension
All humour in him had a strain of the sardonic
All genius is at once a blessing or a curse
All the world’s mad but thee and me
All men are worse than most women
All is fair where all is foul
All he has to do is to be vague, and
look prodigious (Scientist)
All are hurt some time
Always hoping the best from the worst
of us
Always calling to something, for
something outside ourselves
An inner sorrow is a consuming fire
And even envy praised her
Anger was the least injurious of all
grounds for separation
Answered, with the indifference of
despair
Antipathy of the lesser to the greater
nature
Antipathy of the man in the wrong to
the man in the right
As if our penalties were only paid by
ourselves!
At first—and at the last—he
was kind
Ate some coffee-beans and drank some
cold water
Audience that patronisingly listens
outside a room or window
Awkward for your friends and gratifying to your enemies
Babbling covers a lot of secrets
Bad turns good sometimes, when you know the how
Begin to see how near good is to evil
Beginning of a lifetime of experience,
comedy, and tragedy
Being tired you can sleep, and in sleep you can forget
Being generous with other people’s
money
Being young, she exaggerated the
importance of the event
Being a man of very few ideas, he
cherished those he had
Beneath it all there was a little touch of ridicule
Boldness without rashness, and hope
without vain thinking
But I don’t think it is worth doing
twice
But to pay the vulgar penalty of
prison—ah!
But a wounded spirit who can bear
