...but in every century, and ever since England has been what it is, an Englishman has always felt somewhat ashamed of his own emotion and of his own sympathy.

Your mock saint who stands in a niche is not a woman if she have not suffered, still less a woman if she have not sinned. Fall at the feet of your idol as you wish, but drag her down to your level after that -- the only level she should ever reach, that of your heart.

Odd's fish, m'dear! The man can't even tie his own cravat!

There is such wonderful balm in self-imposed sacrifice.

I have so often been asked the question: "But how did you come to think of The Scarlet Pimpernel?" And my answer has always been: "It was God's will that I should." And to you moderns, who perhaps do not believe as I do, I will say, "In the chain of my life, there were so many links, all of which tended towards bringing me to the fulfillment of my destiny."

She, too, had worn a mask in assuming a contempt for him, whilst, as a matter of fact, she completely misunderstood him

Virtue is like precious odours, most fragrant when it is crushed.