But since compromise is the very essence of politics, high-priests of caste and authority, like you, Lord Miltoun, are every bit as much out of it as any Liberal professor." "I don't agree!" "Agree or not, your position towards public affairs is very like the Church's attitude towards marriage and divorce; as remote from the realities of life as the attitude of the believer in Free Love, and not more likely to catch on.

The death of your point of view lies in itself--it's too dried-up and far from things ever to understand them.
If you don't understand you can never rule.

You might just as well keep your hands in your pockets, as go into politics with your notions!" "I fear we must continue to agree to differ." "Well; perhaps I do pay you too high a compliment.

After all, you are a patrician." "You speak in riddles, Mr.Courtier." The dark-eyed woman stirred; her hands gave a sort of flutter, as though in deprecation of acerbity.
Rising at once, and speaking in a deferential voice, the elder man said: "We're tiring Mrs.Noel.

Good-night, Audrey, It's high time I was off." Against the darkness of the open French window, he turned round to fire a parting shot.
"What I meant, Lord Miltoun, was that your class is the driest and most practical in the State--it's odd if it doesn't save you from a poet's dreams.