So does my husband.

He's awfully handsome and clever, and all that--but his conversation! There now, my dear, you must own he is slightly QUEER.

Why, who but a lunatic would say that the only criticism of art is silence?
Isn't that utter rubbish ?" "The only TRUE criticism," I corrected her gently.
"Well, it's all the same.

How can there be any criticism at all in silence?
According to his idea when we admire anything very much we ought to go round with long faces and gags on our mouths.

That would be entirely ridiculous! And what was that dreadful thing he said to you ?" "I don't quite understand you," I answered; "I cannot remember his saying anything dreadful." "Oh, I have it now," continued Amy with rapidity; "it was awful! He said you had the FACE OF ONE WHOM THE SOUL CONSUMES.