Modern English polite society, my native sphere, seems to me as corrupt as consciousness of culture and absence of honesty can make it.

A canting, lie-loving, fact-hating, scribbling, chattering, wealth-hunting, pleasure-hunting, celebrity-hunting mob, that, having lost the fear of hell, and not replaced it by the love of justice, cares for nothing but the lion's share of the wealth wrung by threat of starvation from the hands of the classes that create it.

If you interrupt me with a silly speech, Hetty, I will pitch you into the canal, and die of sorrow for my lost love afterwards.

You know what I am, according to the conventional description: a gentleman with lots of money.

Do you know the wicked origin of that money and gentility ?" "Oh, Sidney; have you been doing anything ?" "No, my best beloved; I am a gentleman, and have been doing nothing.
That a man can do so and not starve is nowadays not even a paradox.
Every halfpenny I possess is stolen money; but it has been stolen legally, and, what is of some practical importance to you, I have no means of restoring it to the rightful owners even if I felt inclined to.
Do you know what my father was ?" "What difference can that make now?
Don't be disagreeable and full of ridiculous fads, Sidney dear.