a just but ignorant man
     Excellent is pride; but oh! be sure of its foundations
     Faith works miracles.  At least it allows time for them
     Habit of antedating his sagacity
     He clearly could not learn from misfortune
     He thinks or he chews
     He would neither retort nor defend himself
     He whipped himself up to one of his oratorical frenzies
     He put no question to anybody
     I can’t think brisk out of my breeches
     I can pay clever gentlemen for doing Greek for me
     I do not defend myself ever
     I was discontented, and could not speak my discontent
     I laughed louder than was necessary
     If you kneel down, who will decline to put a foot on you? 
     Intimations of cowardice menacing a paralysis of the will
     Irony instead of eloquence
     Is it any waste of time to write of love? 
     It goes at the lifting of the bridegroom’s little finger
     Kindness is kindness, all over the world
     Learn all about them afterwards, ay, and make the best of them
     Like a woman, who would and would not, and wanted a master
     Look within, and avoid lying
     Mindless, he says, and arrogant
     Nations at war are wild beasts
     No Act to compel a man to deny what appears in the papers
     Not to do things wholly is worse than not to do things at all
     One in a temper at a time I’m sure ’s enough
     One who studies is not being a fool
     Only true race, properly so called, out of India—­German
     Payment is no more so than to restore money held in trust
     Puns are the smallpox of the language
     Self, was digging pits for comfort to flow in
     Simple affection must bear the strain of friendship if it can
     Simplicity is the keenest weapon
     Some so-called laws of honour
     Stand not in my way, nor follow me too far
     Stultification of one’s feelings and ideas
     Tears are the way of women and their comfort
     Tension of the old links keeping us together
     The most dangerous word of all—­ja
     The love that survives has strangled craving
     The thought stood in her eyes
     The proper defence for a nation is its history
     The wretch who fears death dies multitudinously
     The past is our mortal mother, no dead thing
     Then for us the struggle, for him the grief
     There is more in men and women than the stuff they utter
     There’s ne’er a worse off but there’s a better off
     They seem to me to be educated to conceal their education
     They have not to speak to exhibit their minds
     They dare not.  The more I dare, the less dare they
     They are little ironical laughter—­Accidents
     Those who are rescued and made happy by circumstances
     Tight grasps of the hand, in which there was warmth and shyness
     ’Tis the fashion