Few men are raised in our estimation by being too closely examined.
You're a fine fastidious young man, as proud as a lion, as gentle as a girl. You'd make a good catch for the devil.
Mud, raised by hurricanes, wells up in the noblest and purest of hearts.
The habits of life form the soul, and the soul forms the physical presence.
The day will dawn when Europe will believe only in the man who tramples her underfoot.
When will conventional good manners become attractive? When will ladies of fashion exhibit their shoulders a little less and their affability and wit a little more?