There is such wonderful balm in self-imposed sacrifice.

A woman's heart is such a complex problem - the owner thereof is often most incompetent to find the solution to this puzzle.

Thus human beings judge of one another, superficially, casually, throwing contempt on one another, with but little reason, and no charity.

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

She said nothing, and Sir Andrew, too, was silent, yet those two young people understood one another, as young people have a way of doing all the world over, and have done since the world began.

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.

It does seem simple, doesn't it?' she said, with a final bitter attempt at flippancy, 'when you want to kill a chicken...you take hold of it...then you wring its neck...it's only the chicken who does not find it quite so simple. Now you hold a knife at my throat, and a hostage for my obedience...You find it simple...I don't