The Cure looked at her benignly: she was a woman, and she had loved the man. He had, however, come to a stage of life where greatness alone seemed of little moment. He forbore to answer her, but he pressed her hand.
ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS:
A left-handed boy is all right in the world
Always hoping the best from the worst of us
Damnable propinquity
Good fathers think they have good daughters
Have not we all something to hide—with or without shame?
He has wheeled his nuptial bed into the street
He left his fellow-citizens very much alone
He had had acquaintances, but never friendships, and never loves
Hugging the chain of denial to his bosom
I have a good memory for forgetting
I am only myself when I am drunk
I should remember to forget it
Importunity with discretion was his motto
In all secrets there is a kind of guilt
Is the habit of good living mere habit and mere acting
It is good to live, isn’t it?
Know how bad are you, and doesn’t mind
Liquor makes me human
Nervous legs at a gallop
Pathetically in earnest
Shure, if we could always be ‘about the same,’ we’d do
So say your prayers, believe all you can, don’t ask questions
Strike first and heal after—“a kick and a lick”
Suspicion, the bane of sick old age
Things that once charmed charm less
Was not civilisation a mistake
Who knows!
Youth is the only comrade for youth
Youth is the only comrade for youth