I thought one only had to speak Latin through one's nose and bite off the end.

Refinement is the delicate aroma of Christianity.

I thought one only had to speak Latin through one's nose and bite off the end.

If I write nothing but fiction for some time I begin to get stupid, and to feel rather as if it had been a long meal of sweets; then history is a rest, for research or narration brings a different part of the mind into play.

The unmarried woman seldom escapes a widowhood of the spirit. There is sure to be some one, parent, brother, sister, friend, more comfortable to her than the day, with whom her life is so entwined that the wrench of parting leaves a torn void never entirely healed or filled.

General rules are dangerous of application in particular instances.

The mistake we make, is when we seek to be beloved, instead of loving.