I am seventy years old, a gray age weighted with uncompromising biblical allusions. It ought to have a gray outlook, but it hasn’t, because a glint of dazzling sunshine is dancing merrily ahead of me.
AGNES REPPLIERConversation between Adam and Eve must have been difficult at times, because they had nobody to talk about.
More Agnes Repplier Quotes
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We cannot hope to scale great moral heights by ignoring petty obligations.
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Philadelphians are every whit as mediocre as their neighbors, but they seldom encourage each other in mediocrity by giving it a more agreeable name.
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Woman is quick to revere genius, but in her secret soul she seldom loves it.
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Humor hardens the heart, at least to the point of sanity.
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Edged tools are dangerous things to handle, and not infrequently do much hurt.
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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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To have given pleasure to one human being is a recollection that sweetens life.
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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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Men who believe that, through some exceptional grace or good fortune, they have found God, feel little need of culture.
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Too much rigidity on the part of teachers should be followed by a brisk spirit of insubordination on the part of the taught.
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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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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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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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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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History is not written in the interests of morality.
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