Quotes About Integrity

Is that your whole measure? To shirk what is difficult? To escape to safety, like a strawberry-preacher, when your friends are in danger? My gentleman: if you run from me now, I will brand you and your sister in France, in Scotland, in Midculter and out of it for what you were: rotten stock.

There was a space, during which, of the five men and women standing or kneeling about Francis Crawford, only one watched him. Then Lymond said clearly, 'On my honour, I promise it.

Richard walked over to him. It was not a long way but he walked slowly, as if he were tired, and halted, eventually, face to face with his younger brother. He said, 'Change your mind. It is the last chance in life you may have.' Spoken soberly, with all the honesty of which he was capable, it was neither threat nor impassioned appeal but a simple plea, simply put. To which Lymond, looking him in the eyes, shook his head.

I do not know whether this man is a traitor or not, but he is an individualist, and in war the two are the same.

And did you mean to honour your promise?" Sybilla said.

If you had asked me, I could have told you, without putting yourself to the trouble of experiment, that no one, saint or sinner, is likely to seduce Francis against his will. Unfortunately.

I don't bed with children.' 'Rumour says,' said Catherine d'Albon, 'that you did. Or are the Knights of St John all mistaken?' 'You know too much,' said Francis Crawford slowly. 'Shall I amend it? I don't bed with young girls who are virgins, unless they ask me, and unless I am married to them.

I am good?' said the strained treble. 'Thou art good,' said Francis Crawford in a dry voice.

I asked,' Sybilla said, 'because I have seen him like this before … once; when he elected to take everyone else's business in hand and return it to them correctly aligned, like an artist with a child's drawing.

I will give you to Catherine. I will not give you to a hole in the ground.

Mother of God, Francis Crawford of Lymond, you've made a slut of your art, have you not, as well as a whore of yourself?

She's got sense, that girl; and too much backbone to push herself where she's not wanted. Tell her it's no good, and she'll soon see the point.

So who would do all this?' 'I should,' Richard said. 'Even to sleeping in your own chamber.' 'That I baulk at,' Lymond said. 'The rest you can have. One cock per pen is enough.

You are not coming.' 'But——' said Christopher. 'You heard your father,' said Killingworth. 'You can't hold enough liquor.' 'Can you?' said Christopher, goaded. 'No,' said George Killingworth, after a moment's reflection. 'But who else is going to help us to bed?

Can you imagine what it feels like for me, to pledge my word to preserve a girl's honour and have it broken for me by Francis?

There was a brief silence, during which Philippa Somerville fought and won a battle to keep her eyes dry. Lymond said, 'I give you my word. It was a lie.' Philippa looked at him. 'And I don't deserve that ,' she said.

None of that, however, concerned Buccleuch who was little troubled, if ever, with matters of right and wrong.

You promise food and horses and nonresistance and when they invade, you do or don't lick their boots according to the thickness of your walls and the kind of conscience you have.

To make a deliberate falsification for personal gain is the last, worst depth to which either scholar or artist can descend in work or life. ( Letter to Muriel St. Clare Byrne , 8 September 1935)

The only ethical principle which has made science possible is that the truth shall be told all the time. If we do not penalize false statements made in error, we open up the way for false statements by intention. And a false statement of fact, made deliberately, is the most serious crime a scientist can commit.

My husband would do anything for me ...' It's degrading. No human being ought to have such power over another. It's a very real power, Harriet. Then ... we won't use it. If we disagree, we'll fight it out like gentlemen. We won't stand for matrimonial blackmail.

He remembered having said to his uncle (with a solemn dogmatism better befitting a much younger man): Surely it is possible to love with the head as well as the heart. Mr. Delagardie had replied, somewhat drily: No doubt; so long as you do not end by thinking with your entrails instead of your brain.

You'd think (losing his job and degree for having made false claims as a researcher) would be a lesson to him, said Miss Hillyard. It didn't pay, did it? Say he sacrificed his professional honour for the women and children we hear so much about -- but in the end it left him worse of. But that, said Peter, was only because he committed the extra sin of being found out.

See that the mind is honest, first; the rest may follow or not as God wills. [That] the fundamental treason to the mind ... is the one fundamental treason which the scholar's mind must not allow is the bond uniting all the Oxford people in the last resort.