There should be one theatre where we might take our young daughters without tainting their fresh souls by images of wickedness, or worse, putting it in such pleasant and pathetic shape that they mistake it for virtue.
What a death in life it must be — an existence whose sole aim is good eating and drinking, splendid houses and elegant clothes! Not that these things are bad in moderation — and with something higher beyond. But with nothing beyond?
Coming away from a modern play, as out of the reeking, noxious theatre where it is acted, is, to many, like quitting a moral hell — a very ingenious, elegant, amusing hell, but nevertheless as black as Avernus, and into which the descent is quite as easy.
For every evil there is a remedy, or there is not; if there is one I try to find it; and if there is not, I never mind it.
Oh, the comfort — the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person — having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away.
The best woman has always somewhat of a man’s strength; and the noblest man of a woman’s gentleness.
A rich man, of cultivated tastes, with every right to gratify them, knowing enough of sorrow to humble his heart toward God, and soften it toward his neighbor — gifted with not only the power but will to do good, and having lived long enough to reap the fruits of an honorable youth in a calm old age — such a man, in spite of his riches, is not unlikely to enter the kingdom of heaven.
The only way to meet affliction is to pass through it solemnly, slowly, with humility and faith, as the Israelites passed through the sea. Then its very waves of misery will divide, and become to us a wall, on the right side and on the left, until the gulf narrows before our eyes, and we land safe on the opposite shore.
When faith and hope fail, as they do sometimes, we must try charity, which is love in action. We must speculate no more on our duty, but simply do it. When we have done it, however blindly, perhaps Heaven will show us why.
The deepest tenderness a woman can show to a man, is to help him to do his duty.
Wondering Whom to Read Next?
- Evelyn Waugh British Novelist, Satirist
- George Borrow English Writer, Traveler
- Virginia Woolf English Novelist
- D. H. Lawrence English Novelist
- Pamela Hansford Johnson English Novelist
- Henry Fielding English Novelist
- Jane Austen English Novelist
- William Makepeace Thackeray English Novelist
- Anthony Powell English Novelist
- John Lyly English Dramatist, Author