A teacher had once told them that men were either beasts, gentlemen, or beasts masquerading as gentlemen. Might there be a fourth category — gentlemen masquerading as beasts?
I always say that love is like the meat in a pie,” Freddy put in. “The crust is what people see—the practical things that hold a couple together. But love is the important part—without it you’ve got a meatless pie, and what’s the point of that?” “Why, Freddy,” Minerva said, “that was almost profound.
Advising Mrs. Harris was the least I could do," David said smoothly. "After all, she was the one who brought me and my late wife together.
I'll join you, sir. You'll need help finding your way about the estate."His lips tightened into a disapproving line. "Begging your pardon, Lady Rosalind, but I didn't have a nursemaid when I was three, so I certainly don't need one now. I'm perfectly capable of navigating an estate alone.""I'm sure you are - indeed, you demonstrated a remarkable proficiency for it last night, and in a strange house, too.
Lucy: I don't understand men. Nettie: What is there to understand? If you feed 'em regular-like and give 'em a bit of 'sugar' now and then, they're easy enough. And if they don't behave, you just toss 'em out on their arses. That's what I always say.
It's not your instincts that are the problem. It's your tendency to drown them in a bottle.
The man is always the last to know when Cupid has struck him -Anonymous, Memoirs of a Mistress
Terence: As my old da used to tell me, 'never trust a rich man'. David: Good thing I'm only moderately rich. Terence: Which is why I only moderately distrust you.
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