Great pains were taken to hide chains with flowers
Men judge us by the success of our efforts. God looks at the efforts themselves.
Misery generates hate.
The City seems so much more in earnest: its business, its rush, its roar are such serious things, sights and sounds. The City is getting its living - the West-End but enjoying its pleasure.
Shake me off, then, sir--push me away; for I'll not leave you of my own accord.
Neither birth nor sex forms a limit to genius.