But, Trichy, I should not object if I were as ugly as the veiled prophet and they all as beautiful as Zuleika.

The glory of that galaxy will be held to depend not on its beauty, but on its birth.

You know how they would look at me; how they would scorn me; and there, in church, at the altar, with all that is solemn round us, I could not return their scorn as I might do elsewhere.

In a room I'm not a bit afraid of them all." And Mary was again allowing herself to be absorbed by that feeling of indomitable pride, of antagonism to the pride of others, which she herself in her cooler moments was the first to blame.
"You often say, Mary, that that sort of arrogance should be despised and passed over without notice." "So it should, Trichy.

I tell you that as a clergyman tells you to hate riches.