Quotes About Character

Don't let your special character and values, the secret that you know and no one else does, the truth - don't let that get swallowed up by the great chewing complacency.

If you choose bad companions, no one will believe that you are anything but bad yourself.

It is not only fine feathers that make fine birds.

Once a wolf, always a wolf.

Outside show is a poor substitute for inner worth.

By the deeds know a man.

Women can accept the fact that a man is a rotter, a swindler, a drug taker, a confirmed liar, and a general swine, without batting an eyelash, and without its impairing their affection for the brute in the least. Women are wonderful realists.

As life goes on it becomes tiring to keep up the character you invented for yourself, and so you relapse into individuality and become more like yourself everyday.

At the small table, sitting very upright, was one of the ugliest old ladies he had ever seen. It was an ugliness of distinction - it fascinated rather than repelled.

To count - really and truly to count - a woman must have goodness or brains.

People who can be very good can be very bad too.

Curious thing, rooms. Tell you quite a lot about the people who live in them.

Evil is not any superhuman, but it is HUMAN.

There is no telling what a human character is. Until the test comes. To most of us the test comes early in life. A man is confronted quite soon with the necessity to stand on his own feet, to face dangers and difficulties and to take his own line of dealing with them. It may be the straight way, it may be the crooked way --- whichever it is, a man usually learns early just what he is made of.

What you do not understand is that there are things that cannot be bought.

In every profession and walk of life there is someone who is vulnerablle to temptation. (Mr. Barnes)

Yes, I like that—loyalty, I mean. It's out of fashion nowadays. She's an odd character, that girl—proud, reserved, stubborn, and terribly warm-hearted underneath, I fancy.

What are murderers like? Some of them, have been thoroughly nice chaps.

Miss Marple is a white-haired old lady with a gentle appealing manner- Miss Wetherby is a mixture of vinegar and gush. Of the two Miss Marple is the more dangerous.

It seems odd that as far as I know nobody has yet been murdered for having too perfect a character! And yet perfection is undoubtedly an irritating thing!

There are, of course, the people who revolve around themselves--but I agree with you, she's not one of that kind. She's totally uninterested in herself. And yet she's got a strong character--there must be something. I thought at first it was her art--but it isn't. I've never met anyone so detached from life. That's dangerous.' 'Dangerous? What do you mean?' 'Well, you see--it must mean an obsession of some kind, and obsessions are always dangerous.

Human nature is full of inconsistencies

C'est une femme," said the chef de train again. "Women are like that. When they are enraged they have great strength." He nodded so sagely that everyone suspected a personal experience of his own.

Hercule Poirot addressed himself to the task of keeping his moustaches out of the soup.