It has been wisely said that we cannot really love anybody at whom we never laugh.
AGNES REPPLIERNeatness of phrase is so closely akin to wit that it is often accepted as its substitute.
More Agnes Repplier Quotes
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An appreciation of words is so rare that everybody naturally thinks he possesses it, and this universal sentiment results in the misuse of a material whose beauty enriches the loving student beyond the dreams of avarice.
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We may fail of our happiness, strive we ever so bravely; but we are less likely to fail if we measure with judgement our chances and our capabilities.
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Conversation between Adam and Eve must have been difficult at times, because they had nobody to talk about.
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People who pin their faith to a catchword never feel the necessity of understanding anything.
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Lovers of the town have been content, for the most part, to say they loved it. They do not brag about its uplifting qualities. They have none of the infernal smugness which makes the lover of the country insupportable.
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It is because of our unassailable enthusiasm, our profound reverence for education, that we habitually demand of it the impossible. The teacher is expected to perform a choice and varied series of miracles.
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Life is so full of miseries, minor and major; they press so close upon us at every step of the way, that it is hardly worthwhile to call one another’s attention to their presence.
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A real dog, beloved and therefore pampered by his mistress, is a lamentable spectacle. He suffers from fatty degeneration of his moral being.
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It is not depravity that afflicts the human race so much as a general lack of intelligence.
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Everybody is now so busy teaching that nobody has any time to learn.
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No man pursues what he has at hand. No man recognizes the need of pursuit until that which he desires has escaped him.
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Every misused word revenges itself forever upon a writer’s reputation.
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People who cannot recognize a palpable absurdity are very much in the way of civilization.
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We have but the memories of past good cheer, we have but the echoes of departed laughter. In vain we look and listen for the mirth that has died away. In vain we seek to question the gray ghosts of old-time revelers.
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In those happy days when leisure was held to be no sin, men and women wrote journals whose copiousness both delights and dismays us.
AGNES REPPLIER






