I am eighty years old. There seems to be nothing to add to this statement. I have reached the age of undecorated facts – facts that refuse to be softened by sentiment, or confused by nobility of phrase.
AGNES REPPLIERWhen the milk of human kindness turns sour, it is a singularly unpalatable draught.
More Agnes Repplier Quotes
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A kitten is chiefly remarkable for rushing about like mad at nothing whatever and generally stopping before it gets there.
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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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There is something frightful in being required to enjoy and appreciate all masterpieces; to read with equal relish Milton, and Dante, and Calderon, and Goethe, and Homer, and Scott, and Voltaire, and Wordsworth, and Cervantes, and Molière, and Swift.
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Now the pessimist proper is the most modest of men. … under no circumstances does he presume to imagine that he, a mere unit of pain, can in any degree change or soften the remorseless words of fate.
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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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Bargaining is essential to the life of the world; but nobody has ever claimed that it is an ennobling process.
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Need drives men to envy as fullness drives them to selfishness.
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The sanguine assurance that men and nations can be legislated into goodness, that pressure from without is equivalent to a moral change within, needs a strong backing of inexperience.
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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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Conversation between Adam and Eve must have been difficult at times, because they had nobody to talk about.
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Our dogs will love and admire the meanest of us, and feed our colossal vanity with their uncritical homage.
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the tea-hour is the hour of peace … strife is lost in the hissing of the kettle – a tranquilizing sound, second only to the purring of a cat.
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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 easy to find happiness in ourselves, and it is not possible to find it elsewhere.
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Discussion without asperity, sympathy with fusion, gayety unracked by too abundant jests, mental ease in approaching one another; these are the things which give a pleasant smoothness to the rough edge of life.
AGNES REPPLIER