That Man's Silence Is Wonderful To Listen

The Perfect Woman, You See [is] A Working-woman; Not An Idler; Not A Fine Lady; But One Who [uses] Her Hands And Her Head And Her Heart For The Good Of Others.

Some Folk Want Their Luck Buttered.

You Concede Nothing To Me And I Have To Concede Everything To You.

Tis Because We Be On A Blighted Star, And Not A Sound One, Isn't It Tess?

Teach Me To Live, That I May Dread The Grave As Little As My Bed. Teach Me To Die.