Absurd to promise to love
Acceptance of authority is not faith, it is mere credulity
Always getting glimpses of things when it is too late
Antipathy to forms
Bad music, she said, offended her
Can’t believe in the doctrine of the virgin birth
Clothes of one man are binding on another
Conviction that all things were as they ought to be
Deification of beauty to the exclusion of all else
Economic slavery
Elaborate attention little men are apt to bestow upon women
Even after all these ages, the belief, the hope would not down
Faith may be likened to an egg
Foolish sacrifices are worse than useless
For ye make clean the outside of the cup and of the platter
Futility of the traditional words of comfort
Genius, analyzed, is often disappointing
God himself would have divorced us
Had a habit of not waiting for answers to her questions
Happiness of gratitude and wonder, too wise to exult
He was what is known as a “success”—­always that magic word
Hell’s here—­isn’t it? 
How to be silent with a clamouring heart
I see no one upon whom I can rely but myself
I hate humility
I’m always searching for things to do
If Christians were logical, they should be Socialists
Immortality as orthodox Christianity depicts it
Impulse had brought him thus far
Indiscriminate, unreasoning self-sacrifice
Individualism with which the Church can have no sympathy
Intellectually lazy
Know a great deal and don’t believe anything
Knowledge puts faith out of the question
Logical result of independent thinking is anarchy
“Love,” she added, “plays such havoc with one’s opinions”
Luxuries formerly unthought of seemed to become necessities
Material proof, it seems to me, is a denial of faith
Mistaking the effect for the cause
Mixture of awkwardness and straightforwardness
Not given to trite acquiescence
Olmah which Isaiah uses does not mean virgin
Only one regret as to what you said—­that it is true
Pleasure?  Yes.  It makes me feel as if I were of some use
Religion, I think, should be everybody’s (profession)
Rule which you so confidently apply to fit all cases
Scandalously forced through the council of Nicaea
Seeking a forgiveness out of all proportion to the trespass
St Paul, you say, put us in our proper place
Success—­which was really failure
Sunday was then a day essentially different from other days
The law cannot fit all cases
The weak always sink
The hours of greatest suffering are the empty hours
Thinking isn’t—­believing
Vagueness generally attributed to her sex
Vividly unreal, as a toy village comes painted from the shop
We must believe, if we believe at all, without authority
We are always trying to get away from ourselves
We never can foresee how we may change
We have no control over our affections
When our brief span of usefulness is done
Who had learned the lesson of mothers,—­how to wait
Whole conception of charity is a crime against civilization
You and your religion are as far apart as the poles