For an ordinary intellect, yes, but for me a mere bagatelle, or bag-of-shells, as the ancients have it.

Let realism have its demonstration, comedy its criticism, or even bawdry its horselaugh at the expense of sexual infatuation, if it must; but to ask us to subject our souls to its ruinous glamour, to worship it, deify it, and imply that it alone makes our life worth living, is nothing but folly gone mad erotically—a thing compared to which Falstaff's unbeglamored drinking and drabbing is respectable and rightminded.

Bradly was late getting into town - he had forgotten that Saturday was a half-holiday. But he was in time to lay in stores at Cooley's, and call at the butcher's and greengrocer's while the parcels were being made up.

… if you’re going to parade around with that robe hanging open you’re going to get yourself some bronchitis.