Lucy was suffering from the most grievous wrong which this world has yet discovered: diplomatic advantage had been taken of her sincerity, of her craving for sympathy and love. Such a wrong is not easily forgotten. Never again did she expose herself without due consideration and precaution against rebuff. And such a wrong may react disastrously upon the soul.

Pity wraps the student of the past in an ambrosial cloud, and washes his limbs with eternal youth.

Faith, to my mind, is a stiffening process, a sort of mental starch.

I won't be protected. I will choose for myself what is ladylike and right. To shield me is an insult.

Mistrust all enterprises that require new clothes.

What the world most needs today are negative virtues - not minding people, not being huffy, touchy, irritable or revengeful.

Riposte of "that old lady in the anecdote who was accused by her nieces of being illogical," Logic! Good gracious! What rubbish! How can I tell what I think till I see what I say?