Quotes from Anthony Trollope

She had no ambition to write a good book, but was painfully anxious to write a book that the critics should say was good.

We must not be philosophical before her. Mamma, Major Grantly has — skedaddled.

But Mr. Daubeny, as soon as he had made his statement, stalked out of the House, and no reply whatever was made to the independent Members. Some few sublime and hot-headed gentlemen muttered the word "impeachment." Others, who were more practical and less dignified, suggested that the Prime Minister "ought to have his head punched.

Morning parties, as a rule, are failures. People never know how to get away from them gracefully.

she would remain up-stairs with her child. She always made use of her child when troubles came

your heart] That is your own estate, your own, your very own, --your own and another's. Whatever may go to the moneylenders, don't send that there. Don't mortgage that.

There is an aptness, a propriety, a fitness in these things which one can understand perhaps better than explain.

It was a great thing,—a very great thing;—he had no hesitation in saying that it was one of the greatest things out.  He didn't believe a greater thing had ever come out.

Who is there that abstains from reading that which is printed in abuse of himself?

I would carry you home, Mary, if it would do you a service," said Frank, with considerable pathos in his voice. "Oh, dear me! pray do not, Mr Gresham. I should not like it at all," said she: "a wheelbarrow would be preferable to that.

the public is defrauded when it is purposely misled. Poor public! how often is it misled! against what a world of fraud has it to contend!

such was the beauty of the landscape, that a lover of scenery would be tempted thus to lose himself.

The night was bright with stars, but there was no moon in the heavens, and the gloom of the ivy-coloured church tower was complete. But all the outlines of the place were so well known to him that he could trace them all in the dim light.

But women can bear anything better than desertion. Cruelty is bad, but neglect is worse than cruelty, and desertion worse even than neglect.

Familiarity does breed contempt;—doesn't it?

If a husband be not master of his wife´s heart, he has no right to her fealty; if a wife ceases to love, she may cease to be true.

The form and face of Lady Eustace, which indeed were very lovely, were distasteful to her; whereas she delighted to look upon the broad, plain, colourless countenance of Lydia Fawn, who was endeared to her by frank good humour and an unselfish disposition. In regard to men she had never asked herself the question whether this man was handsome or that man ugly.

You must take the world as you find it, with a struggle to be something more honest than those around you. Phineas, as he preached himself this sermon, declared to himself that they who attempted more than this flew too high in the clouds to be of service to men an women upon the earth

It is good to be beautiful, but it should come of God and not of the hairdresser. And personal dignity is a great possession; but a man should struggle for it no more than he would for beauty.

Yes; — if there were children. And it will come back to her if he dies first. But mad people never do die. That's a well-known fact. They've nothing to trouble them, and they live for ever. It'll all go to some cousin of his that nobody ever saw

He never quarreled with his wife, but he never talked to her;--he never had time to talk, he was so taken up with speaking.

These leave-takings in novels are as disagreeable as they are in real life; not so sad, indeed, for they want the reality of sadness; but quite as perplexing, and generally less satisfactory.

Nevertheless, it is not an uncommon thing to hear openly at the clubs an account of what has been settled; and, as we all know, not a council is held as to which the editor of The People's Banner does not inform its readers next day exactly what took place.

It cannot, however, be said that this Petruchio had as yet tamed his own peculiar shrew. Lucinda was as savage as ever, and would snap and snarl, and almost bite.