It is not begging but the beggar, who has forfeited favor with the elect.
AGNES REPPLIERHistory is not written in the interests of morality.
More Agnes Repplier Quotes
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The vanity of man revolts from the serene indifference of the cat.
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Friendship takes time.
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Science may carry us to Mars, but it will leave the earth peopled as ever by the inept.
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A kitten is the most irresistible comedian in the world. Its wide-open eyes gleam with wonder and mirth. It darts madly at nothing at all, and then, as though suddenly checked in the pursuit, prances sideways on its hind legs with ridiculous agility and zeal.
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Books that children read but once are of scant service to them; those that have really helped to warm our imaginations and to train our faculties are the few old friends we know so well that they have become a portion of our thinking selves.
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Necessity knows no Sunday.
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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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Erudition, like a bloodhound, is a charming thing when held firmly in leash, but it is not so attractive when turned loose upon a defenseless and unerudite public.
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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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if a man be discreet enough to take to hard drinking in his youth, before his general emptiness is ascertained, his friends invariably credit him with a host of shining qualities which, we are given to understand, lie balked and frustrated by his one unfortunate weakness.
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Edged tools are dangerous things to handle, and not infrequently do much hurt.
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Cats, even when robust, have scant liking for the boisterous society of children, and are apt to exert their utmost ingenuity to escape it. Nor are they without adult sympathy in their prejudice.
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It is in his pleasure that a man really lives; it is from his leisure that he constructs the true fabric of self.
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There is no illusion so permanent as that which enables us to look backward with complacency; there is no mental process so deceptive as the comparing of recollections with realities.
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The least practical of us have some petty thrift dear to our hearts, some one direction in which we love to scrimp.
AGNES REPPLIER