Chapter 4

Vanity maketh the strongest most weak

Venerated by his followers, well hated by his enemies

Venus of nature was melting into a Venus of art

Very little parleying between determined men

Vessel was conspiring to ruin our self-respect

Victims of the modern feminine 'ideal'

Violent summons to accept, which is a provocation to deny

Virtue of impatience

Virtuously zealous in an instant on behalf of the lovely dame

Vowed never more to repeat that offence to his patience

Vulgarity in others evoked vulgarity in her

Wait till the day's ended before you curse your luck

Waited serenely for the certain disasters to enthrone her

Wakening to the claims of others-- Youth's infant conscience

Want of courage is want of sense

War is only an exaggerated form of duelling

Warm, is hardly the word--Winter's warm on skates

Was I true? Not so very false, yet how far from truth!

Was not one of the order whose Muse is the Public Taste

Was born on a hired bed

Watch, and wait

We are, in short, a civilized people

We shall not be rich--nor poor

We could row and ride and fish and shoot, and breed largely

We has long overshadowed "I"

We are good friends till we quarrel again

We are chiefly led by hope

We have a system, not planned but grown

We can bear to fall; we cannot afford to draw back

We can't hope to have what should be

We don't know we are in halves

We must fawn in society

We never see peace but in the features of the dead

We live alone, and do not much feel it till we are visited

We dare not be weak if we would

We do not see clearly when we are trying to deceive

We women can read men by their power to love

We were unarmed, and the spectacle was distressing

We trust them or we crush them

We shall go together; we shall not have to weep for one another

We make our taskmasters of those to whom we have done a wrong

We cannot relinquish an idea that was ours

We deprive all renegades of their spiritual titles

We like well whatso we have done good work for

We grew accustomed to periods of Irish fever

We have come to think we have a claim upon her gratitude

We must have some excuse, if we would keep to life

We shall want a war to teach the country the value of courage

We cannot, men or woman, control the heart in sleep at night

We have now looked into the hazy interior of their systems

We don't go together into a garden of roses

We're treated like old-fashioned ornaments!

We're all of us hit at last, and generally by our own weapon

We're a peaceful people, but 'ware who touches us

We're smitten to-day in our hearts and our pockets

We've all a parlous lot too much pulpit in us

Weak stomach is certainly more carnally virtuous than a full one

Weak reeds who are easily vanquished and never overcome

Weak souls are much moved by having the pathos on their side

Weather and women have some resemblance they say

Weighty little word--woman's native watchdog and guardian (No!)

Welcomed and lured on an adversary to wild outhitting

Well, sir, we must sell our opium

Welsh blood is queer blood

Went into endless invalid's laughter

Were I chained, For liberty I would sell liberty

What might have been

What the world says, is what the wind says

What will be thought of me? not a small matter to any of us

What he did, she took among other inevitable matters

What a stock of axioms young people have handy

What a woman thinks of women, is the test of her nature

What else is so consolatory to a ruined man?

What was this tale of Emilia, that grew more and more perplexing

What ninnies call Nature in books

What a man hates in adversity is to see 'faces'

What's an eccentric? a child grown grey!

When you run away, you don't live to fight another day

When we see our veterans tottering to their fall

When to loquacious fools with patience rare I listen

When testy old gentlemen could commit slaughter with ecstasy

When he's a Christian instead of a Churchman

When Love is hurt, it is self-love that requires the opiate

When duelling flourished on our land, frail women powerful

When we despair or discolour things, it is our senses in revolt

When you have done laughing with her, you can laugh at her

Where fools are the fathers of every miracle

Where one won't and can't, poor t' other must

Where she appears, the first person falls to second rank

Where heart weds mind, or nature joins intellect

Where love exists there is goodness

Whimpering fits you said we enjoy and must have in books

Who venerate when they love

Who cannot talk!--but who can?

Who rises from Prayer a better man, his prayer is answered

Who beguiles so much as Self?

Who shrinks from an hour that is suspended in doubt

Who in a labyrinth wandereth without clue

Who enjoyed simple things when commanding the luxuries

Who can really think, and not think hopefully?

Who cries, Come on, and prays his gods you won't

Who so intoxicated as the convalescent catching at health?

Who shuns true friends flies fortune in the concrete

Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?

Whole body of fanatics combined to precipitate the devotion

Whose bounty was worse to him than his abuse

Why should these men take so much killing?

Why, he'll snap your head off for a word

Why he enjoyed the privilege of seeing, and was not beside her

Wife and no wife, a prisoner in liberty

Wilfrid perceived that he had become an old man

Will not admit the existence of a virtue in an opposite opinion

William John Fleming was simply a poor farmer

Win you--temperately, let us hope; by storm, if need be

Winds of panic are violently engaged in occupying the vacuum

Wins everywhere back a reflection of its own kindliness

Winter mornings are divine. They move on noiselessly

Wise in not seeking to be too wise

With that I sail into the dark

With good wine to wash it down, one can swallow anything

With what little wisdom the world is governed

With death; we'd rather not, because of a qualm

With one idea, we see nothing--nothing but itself

With a frozen fish of admirable principles for wife

With this money, said the demon, you might speculate

With a proud humility

Withdrew into the entrenchments of contempt

Without a single intimation that he loathed the task

Without those consolatory efforts, useless between men

Wits, which are ordinarily less productive than land

Wives are only an item in the list, and not the most important

Woman descending from her ideal to the gross reality of man

Woman will be the last thing civilized by Man

Woman finds herself on board a rudderless vessel

Woman's precious word No at the sentinel's post, and alert

Women are wonderfully quick scholars under ridicule

Women with brains, moreover, are all heartless

Women are taken to be the second thoughts of the Creator

Women don't care uncommonly for the men who love them

Women must not be judging things out of their sphere

Women and men are in two hostile camps

Women treat men as their tamed housemates

Women are swift at coming to conclusions in these matters

Women are happier enslaved

Won't do to be taking in reefs on a lee-shore

Wonderment that one of her sex should have ideas

Wooing her with dog's eyes instead of words

Wooing a good man for his friendship

Work of extravagance upon perceptibly plain matter

Work is medicine

World cannot pardon a breach of continuity

World against us It will not keep us from trying to serve

World is ruthless, dear friends, because the world is hypocrite

World prefers decorum to honesty

World voluntarily opens a path to those who step determinedly

Would like to feel he was doing a bit of good

Would he see what he aims at? let him ask his heels

Wrapped in the comfort of his cowardice

Writer society delights in, to show what it is composed of

Yawns coming alarmingly fast, in the place of ideas

Years are the teachers of the great rocky natures

Yet, though Angels smile, shall not Devils laugh

You accuse or you exonerate--Nobody can be half guilty

You choose to give yourself to an obscure dog

You rides when you can, and you walks when you must

You talk your mother with a vengeance

You do want polish

You who may have cared for her through her many tribulations, have no fear

You are entreated to repress alarm

You beat me with the fists, but my spirit is towering

You can master pain, but not doubt

You are not married, you are simply chained

You have not to be told that I desire your happiness above all

You are to imagine that they know everything

You may learn to know yourself through love

You want me to flick your indecision

You saw nothing but handkerchiefs out all over the theatre

You played for gain, and that was a licenced thieving

You'll have to guess at half of everything he tells you

You'll tell her you couldn't sit down in her presence undressed

You're the puppet of your women!

You're talking to me, not to a gallery

You're a rank, right-down widow, and no mistake

You're going to be men, meaning something better than women

You've got no friend but your bed

Young as when she looked upon the lovers in Paradise

Your devotion craves an enormous exchange

Youth will not believe that stupidity and beauty can go together

Youth is not alarmed by the sound of big sums

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