I hate her because her voice sounds as if it never trembled
and her eyes look as if she never knew what it was to cry. Besides, she
looks at me, Sir, stares at me, as if she wanted to get an image of me
for some gallery in her brain,--and we don't love to be looked at in this
way, we that have--I hate her,--I hate her,--her eyes kill me,--it is
like being stabbed with icicles to be looked at so,--the sooner she goes
home, the better. I don't want a woman to weigh me in a balance; there
are men enough for that sort of work. The judicial character is n't
captivating in females, Sir. A woman fascinates a man quite as often by
what she overlooks as by what she sees. Love prefers twilight to
daylight; and a man doesn't think much of, nor care much for, a woman
outside of his household, unless he can couple the idea of love, past,
present, or future, with her. I don't believe the Devil would give half
as much for the services of a sinner as he would for those of one of
these folks that are always doing virtuous acts in a way to make them
unpleasing.
Pages:
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161