Manners Are The Hypocrisy Of A Nation.

Reproach Is Usually Honest, Which Is More Than Can Be Said Of Praise.

There Are Houses In Certain Provincial Towns Whose Aspect Inspires Melancholy, Akin To That Called Forth By Sombre Cloisters, Dreary Moorlands, Or The Desolation Of Ruins. Within These Houses There Is, Perhaps, The Silence Of The Cloister, The Barrenness Of Moors, The Skeleton Of Ruins; Life And Movement Are So Stagnant There That A Stranger Might Think Them Uninhabited, Were It Not That He Encounters Suddenly The Pale, Cold Glance Of A Motionless Person, Whose Half-monastic Face Peers Beyond The Window-casing At The Sound Of An Unaccustomed Step.

Conventions Are Often More Cruel Than The Law.

The Weakest Being On Earth Can Accomplish Feats Of Strength. The Frailest Urchin Will Ring Every Doorbell On The Street In Arctic Weather Or Hoist Himself Aloft To Inscribe His Name On A Virgin Monument.

No Woman Dares To Refuse Love Without A Motive, For Nothing Is More Natural Than To Yield To Love.