I know nothing of philosophical philanthropy. But I know what I have seen, and what I have looked in the face in this world here, where I find myself. And I tell you this, my friend, that there are people (men and women both, unfortunately) who have no good in them-none. That there are people whom it is necessary to detest without compromise. That there are people who must be dealt with as enemies of the human race. That there are people who have no human heart, and who must be crushed like savage beasts and cleared out of the way.

Being that rare sort of old girl that she receives Good to her arms without a hint that it might be Better and catches light from any little spot of darkness near her.

Anything that makes a noise is satisfactory to a crowd.

"Drink with me, my dear," said Mr. Weller. "Put your lips to this here tumbler, and then I can kiss you by deputy."

My dear if you could give me a cup of tea to clear my muddle of a head I should better understand your affairs.

They are so filthy and bestial that no honest man would admit one into his house for a water-closet doormat.

I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.