Sensuality, too, which used to show itself course, smiling, unmasked, and unmistakable, is now serious, analytic, and so burdened with a sense of its responsibilities that it passes muster half the time as a new type of asceticism.
AGNES REPPLIERWhen the contemplative mind is a French mind, it is content, for the most part, to contemplate France. When the contemplative mind is an English mind, it is liable to be seized at any moment by an importunate desire to contemplate Morocco or Labrador.
More Agnes Repplier Quotes
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The perfectly natural thing to do with an unreadable book is to give it away; and the publication, for more than a quarter of a century, of volumes which fulfilled this one purpose and no other is a pleasant proof, if proof were needed, of the business principles which underlay the enlightened activity of publishers.
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The impulse to travel is one of the hopeful symptoms of life.
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Edged tools are dangerous things to handle, and not infrequently do much hurt.
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Letter-writing on the part of a busy man or woman is the quintessence of generosity.
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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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The age of credulity is every age the world has ever known. Men have always turned from the ascertained, which is limited and discouraging, to the dubious, which is unlimited and full of hope for everybody.
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English civilization rests largely upon tea and cricket, with mighty spurts of enjoyment on Derby Day, and at Newmarket.
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The cat dwells within the circle of her own secret thoughts.
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But self-satisfaction, if as buoyant as gas, has an ugly trick of collapsing when full blown, and facts are stony things that refuse to melt away in the sunshine of a smile.
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There are few nudities so objectionable as the naked truth.
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Who that has plodded on to middle age would take back upon his shoulders ten of the vanished years, with their mingled pleasures and pains? Who would return to the youth he is forever pretending to regret?
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Letters form a by-path of literature, a charming, but occasional, retreat for people of cultivated leisure.
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The clear-sighted do not rule the world, but they sustain and console it.
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It is not the office of a novelist to show us how to behave ourselves; it is not the business of fiction to teach us anything.
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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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