Produced by David Widger
QUOTES AND IMAGES FROM THE WORKS OF GILBERT PARKER
THE WORKS OF GILBERT PARKER
A human life he held to be a trifle in the big sum of time
A heart-break for that kind is their
salvation
A man may be forgiven for a sin, but
the effect remains
A look too bright for joy, too intense for despair
A sort of chuckle not entirely pleasant
A man you could bank on, and draw your interest reg’lar
A left-handed boy is all right in the world
A cloak of words to cover up the real thought behind
Aboriginal in all of us, who must have a sign for an emotion
Aboriginal dispersion
Adaptability was his greatest weapon in life
Advantage to live where nothing was
required of her but truth
After which comes steady happiness or the devil to pay (wedding)
Agony in thinking about the things
we’re never going to do
Ah, let it be soon! Ah, let him die
soon!
Air of certainty and universal
comprehension
All humour in him had a strain of the sardonic
All genius is at once a blessing or a curse
All the world’s mad but thee and me
All men are worse than most women
All is fair where all is foul
All he has to do is to be vague, and
look prodigious (Scientist)
All are hurt some time
Always hoping the best from the worst of us
Always calling to something, for
something outside ourselves
An inner sorrow is a consuming fire
And even envy praised her
Anger was the least injurious of all
grounds for separation
Answered, with the indifference of
despair
Antipathy of the lesser to the greater nature
Antipathy of the man in the wrong to
the man in the right
As if our penalties were only paid by ourselves!
At first–and at the last–he was kind
Ate some coffee-beans and drank some
cold water
Audience that patronisingly listens
outside a room or window
Awkward for your friends and gratifying to your enemies
Babbling covers a lot of secrets
Bad turns good sometimes, when you know the how
Begin to see how near good is to evil
Beginning of a lifetime of experience, comedy, and tragedy
Being tired you can sleep, and in sleep you can forget
Being generous with other people’s
money
Being young, she exaggerated the
importance of the event
Being a man of very few ideas, he
cherished those he had
Beneath it all there was a little touch of ridicule
Boldness without rashness, and hope
without vain thinking
But I don’t think it is worth doing
twice
But to pay the vulgar penalty of
prison–ah!
But a wounded spirit who can bear
But the years go on, and friends have an end
Came of a race who set great store by mothers and grandmothers
Carrying with him the warm atmosphere of a good woman’s love
Cherish any alleviating lie
Clever men are trying
Cling to beliefs long after conviction has been shattered
Confidence in a weak world gets
unearned profit often
Conquest not important enough to
satisfy ambition
Counsel of the overwise to go jolting through the soul
Courage which awaits the worst the
world can do
Courage; without which, men are as the standing straw
Credulity, easily transmutable into
superstition
Damnable propinquity
Dangerous man, as all enthusiasts are
Death is not the worst of evils
Death is a magnificent ally; it
untangles knots
Delicate revenge which hath its hour
with every man
Did not let him think that she was
giving up anything for him
Do what you feel you’ve got to do, and never mind what happens
Does any human being know what he can bear of temptation
Don’t go at a fence till you’re sure of your seat
Don’t be a bigger fool than there’s any need to be
Don’t be too honest
Down in her heart, loves to be mastered
Duplicity, for which she might never
have to ask forgiveness
Each of us will prove himself a fool
given perfect opportunity
Egotism with which all are diseased
Egregious egotism of young love there are only two identities
Engrossed more, it seemed, in the
malady than in the man
Enjoy his own generosity
Even bad company’s better than no
company at all
Every true woman is a mother, though
she have no child
Every man should have laws of his own
Every shot that kills ricochets
Evil is half-accidental, half-natural
Face flushed with a sort of pleasurable defiance
Fascinating colour which makes evil
appear to be good
Fear a woman are when she hates, and
when she loves
Fear of one’s own wife is the worst
fear in the world
Flood came which sweeps away the rust that gathers in the eyes
Follow me; if I retreat, kill me; if I fall, avenge me
For a man having work to do, woman,
lovely woman, is rocks
Freedom is the first essential of the artistic mind
Frenchman, volatile, moody, chivalrous, unreasonable
Frenchman, slave of ideas, the victim of sentiment
Friendship means a giving and a getting
Futility of goodness, the futility of all
Future of those who will not see,
because to see is to suffer
Good fathers think they have good
daughters
Good is often an occasion more than a condition
Good thing for a man himself to be owed kindness
Grove of pines to give a sense of
warmth in winter
Grow more intense, more convinced, more thorough, as they talk
Had the luck together, all kinds and
all weathers
Had the slight flavour of the superior and the paternal
Had got unreasonably old
Have not we all something to hide–with or without shame?
Have you ever felt the hand of your own child in yours
He had neither self-consciousness nor fear
He admired, yet he wished to be admired
He hated irony in anyone else
He was not always sorry when his
teasing hurt
He felt things, he did not study them
He was in fact not a philosopher, but a sentimentalist
He had only made of his wife an
incident in his life
He didn’t always side with the majority
He does not love Pierre; but he does
not pretend to love him
He was strong enough to admit ignorance
He has wheeled his nuptial bed into the street
He had had acquaintances, but never
friendships, and never loves
He had no instinct for vice in the name of amusement
He left his fellow-citizens very much alone
He never saw an insult unless he
intended to avenge it
He had tasted freedom; he was near to license
He borrowed no trouble
He wishes to be rude to some one, and is disappointed
He’s a barber-shop philosopher
Heaven where wives without number
awaited him
Her sight was bounded by the little
field where she strayed
Her voice had the steadiness of despair
Her stronger soul ruled him without his knowledge
Her own suffering always set her
laughing at herself
Highsterics, they call it
His courtesy was not on the same
expansive level as his vanity
His duties were many, or he made them so
His gift for lying was inexpressible
Honesty was a thing he greatly
desired–in others
How little we can know to-day what we shall feel tomorrow
How can one force one’s heart? No, no! One has to wait
How many sons have ever added to their father’s fame?
How many conquests have been made in
the name of God
How can you judge the facts if you
don’t know the feeling?
Hugging the chain of denial to his
bosom
Hunger for happiness is robbery
I love that love in which I married him
I was never good at catechism
I said I was not falling in love–I am in love
I am only myself when I am drunk
I have a good memory for forgetting
I don’t wish to fit in; things must fit me
I like when I like, and I like a lot
when I like
I always did what was wrong, and liked it–nearly always
I should remember to forget it
I don’t believe in walking just for the sake of walking
I don’t think. I’m old enough to know
I can’t pay you for your kindness to
me, and I don’t want to
I had to listen to him, and he had to pay me for listening
I was born insolent
I–couldn’t help it
If you have a good thought, act on it
If one remembers, why should the other forget
If women hadn’t memory, she answered, they wouldn’t have much
If fumbling human fingers do not meddle with it
Illusive hopes and irresponsible
deceptions
Imagination is at the root of much that passes for love
Importunity with discretion was his
motto
In all secrets there is a kind of guilt
In her heart she never can defy the
world as does a man
Inclined to resent his own
insignificance
Instinct for detecting veracity, having practised on both sides
Interfere with people who had a trade and didn’t understand it
Irishmen have gifts for only two
things–words and women
Is the habit of good living mere habit and mere acting
It is hard to be polite to cowards
It is not Justice that fills the gaols, but Law
It is not the broken heart that kills, but broken pride
It is good to live, isn’t it?
It is difficult to be idle–and
important too
It is not much to kill or to die–that is in the game
It isn’t what they do, it’s what they don’t do
It ain’t for us to say what we’re goin’ to be, not always
It is easy to repent when our pleasures have palled
It’s the people who try to be clever
who never are
It’s no good simply going–you’ve got to go somewhere
Jews everywhere treated worse than the Chinaman
Joy of a confessional which relieves
the sick heart
Kissed her twice on the cheek–the
first time in fifteen years
Knew the lie of silence to be as evil as the lie of speech
Knew when to shut his eyes, and when to keep them open
Know how bad are you, and doesn’t mind
Knowing that his face would never be
turned from me
Lacks a balance-wheel. He has brains, but not enough
Law. It is expensive whether you win
or lose
Learned what fools we mortals be
Learned, as we all must learn, that we live our dark hour alone
Let others ride to glory, I’ll shoe
their horses for the gallop
Liars all men may be, but that’s wid
wimmin or landlords
Life is only futile to the futile
Lighted candles in hollowed pumpkins
Likenesses between the perfectly human and the perfectly animal
Lilt of existence lulling to sleep
wisdom and tried experience
Liquor makes me human
Live and let live is doing good
Lonely we come into the world, and
lonely we go out of it
Longed to touch, oftener than they did, the hands of children
Lose their heads, and be so absurdly
earnest
Love can outlive slander
Love, too, is a game, and needs playing
Love knows not distance; it hath no
continent
Love has nothing to do with ugliness
or beauty, or fortune
Lyrical in his enthusiasms
Man who tells the story in a new way, that is genius
Man grows old only by what he suffers, and what he forgives
Man or woman must not expect too much out of life
May be more beautiful in uncertain
England than anywhere else
Meditation is the enemy of action
Memory is man’s greatest friend and
worst enemy
Men and women are unwittingly their own executioners
Men feel surer of women than women feel of men
Men do not steal up here: that is the unpardonable crime
Men must have their bad hours alone
Men are like dogs–they worship him who beats them
Men are shy with each other where their emotions are in play
Miseries of this world are caused by
forcing issues
Missed being a genius by an inch
Monotonously intelligent
More idle than wicked
Most honest thing I ever heard, but
it’s not the most truthful
Most important lessons of life–never to quarrel with a woman
Mothers always forgive
My excuses were making bad infernally worse
Mystery is dear to a woman’s heart
Nature twists in back, or anywhere,
gets a twist in’s brain too
Nervous legs at a gallop
Never believed that when man or woman said no that no was meant
Never looked to get an immense amount of happiness out of life
Never to be content with superficial
reasons and the obvious
Never give up your soul to things only, keep it for people
No note of praise could be pitched too high for Elizabeth
No, I’m not good–I’m only beautiful
No news–no trouble
No virtue in not falling, when you’re not tempted
No past that is hidden has ever been a happy past
No man so simply sincere, or so
extraordinarily prejudiced
Noise is not battle
Not good to have one thing in the head all the time
Not content to do even the smallest
thing ill
Not to show surprise at anything
Nothing so good as courage, nothing so base as the shifting eye
Nothing is futile that is right
Nothing so popular for the moment as
the fall of a favourite
Of those who hypnotize themselves, who glow with self-creation
Of course I’ve hated, or I wouldn’t be worth a button
Often called an invention of the devil (Violin)
Often, we would rather be hurt than
hurt
One does the work and another gets paid
One always buys back the past at a
tremendous price
One doesn’t choose to worry
One favour is always the promise of
another
Only the supremely wise or the deeply ignorant who never alter
Oriental would think not less of him
for dissimulation
Paradoxes which make for laughter–and for tears
Passion to forget themselves
Pathetically in earnest
People who are clever never think of
trying to be
Philosophers are often stupid in human affairs
Philosophy which could separate the
petty from the prodigious
Political virtue goes unrewarded
Prepared for a kiss this hour and a
reproach the next
Preserved a marked unconsciousness
Protest that it is right when it knows that it is wrong
Put the matter on your own hearthstone
Queer that things which hurt most can’t be punished by law
Rack of secrecy, the cruelest
inquisition of life
Reading a lot and forgetting everything
Reconciling the preacher and the
sinner, as many another has
Religion to him was a dull recreation invented chiefly for women
Remember the sorrow of thine own wife
Remember your own sins before you
charge others
Rewarded for its mistakes
Romance is an incident to a man
Sacrifice to the god of the pin-hole
Sardonic pleasure in the miseries of
the world
Saw how futile was much competition
Saying uncomfortable things in a
deferential way
Scoundrel, too weak to face the
consequences of his sin
Secret of life: to keep your own
commandments
Self-will, self-pride, and
self-righteousness were big in him
She lacked sense a little and
sensitiveness much
She was not to be forced to answer his arguments directly
She knew what to say and what to leave unsaid
She was beginning to understand that
evil is not absolute
She valued what others found useless
She wasn’t young, but she seemed so
She had not suffered that sickness,
social artifice
She had provoked love, but had never
given it
She had never stooped to conquer
Should not make our own personal
experience a law unto the world
Shure, if we could always be ‘about the same,’ we’d do
Simply to have death renewed every
morning
Slander ever scorches where it touches
Slow-footed hours wandered by, leaving apathy in their train
Smiling was part of his equipment
So say your prayers, believe all you
can, don’t ask questions
Solitude fixes our hearts immovably on things
Some people are rough with the
poor–and proud
Some wise men are fools, one way or
another
Some are hurt in one way and some in
another
Sometimes the longest way round is the shortest way home
Soul tortured through different degrees of misunderstanding
Spurting out little geysers of other
people’s cheap wisdom
Still the end of your existence, I
rejoined–to be amused?
Strike first and heal after–“a kick
and a lick”
Struggle of conscience and expediency
Surely she might weep a little for
herself
Suspicion, the bane of sick old age
Sympathy, with curiousness in their
eyes and as much inhumanity
Sympathy and consolation might be much misplaced
Thanked him in her heart for the things he had left unsaid
That anxious civility which beauty can inspire
That iceberg which most mourners carry in their breasts
That he will find the room empty where I am not
The Government cherish the Injin much in these days
The Injin speaks the truth,
perhaps–eye of red man multiplies
The blind tyranny of the just
The soul of goodness in things evil
The higher we go the faster we live
The gods made last to humble the pride of men–there was rum
The world never welcomes its deserters
The furious music of death and war was over
The tender care of a woman–than many pharmacopoeias
The beginning of the end of things was come for him
The ravings of a sick man are not
always counted ravings
The friendship of man is like the shade of the acacia
The sea is a great breeder of
friendship
The vague pain of suffered indifference
The soul is a great traveller
The happy scene of the play before the villain comes in
The threshold of an acknowledged love
The Barracks of the Free
The real business of life is trying to understand each other
The world is not so bad as is claimed for it
The temerity and nonchalance of despair
There is nothing so tragic as the
formal
There are things we repent of which
cannot be repaired
There is something humiliating in even an undeserved injury
There should be written the one word, “Wait”
There is no refuge from memory and
remorse in this world
There was never a grey wind but there’s a greyer
There is no influence like the
influence of habit
There is no habit so powerful as the
habit of care of others
There’s no credit in not doing what you don’t want to do
These little pieces of art make life
possible
They think that if a vote’s worth
having it’s worth paying for
They whose tragedy lies in the capacity to suffer greatly
Things in life git stronger than we are
Things that once charmed charm less
Think with the minds of twelve men, and the heart of one woman
Think that a woman gives the heart for pleasant weather only?
Think of our position
Thou wouldst not think how ill all’s
here about my heart
Time when she should and when she
should not be wooed
Time is the test, and Time will have
its way with me
Time a woman most yearns for a man is when she has refused him
To die without whining
To be popular is not necessarily to be contemptible
To sorrow may their humour be a foil
To-morrow is no man’s gift
Touch of the fantastic, of the
barbaric, in all genius
Training in the charms of
superficiality
Tricks played by Fact to discredit the imagination
Triumph of Oriental duplicity over
Western civilisation
Truth waits long, but whips hard
Tyranny of the little man, given a
power
Undisciplined generosity
Untamed by the normal restraints of a happy married life
Uses up your misery and makes you tired (Work)
Vanity is the bane of mankind
Vanity of successful labour
Vanity; and from this much feminine
hatred springs
Very severe on those who do not pretend to be good
Visions of the artistic
temperament–delight and curse
War is cruelty, and none can make it
gentle
Was not civilisation a mistake
We don’t live in months and years, but just in minutes
We want to get more out of life than
there really is in it
We want every land to do as we do; and we want to make ’em do it
We grow away from people against our
will
We are only children till we begin to make our dreams our life
We care so little for real justice
We do what we forbid ourselves to do
We suffer the shames we damn in others
We must live our dark hours alone
We speak with the straight tongue; it is cowards who lie
We’ll lave the past behind us
What fools there are in the world
What is gone is gone. Graves are
idolatry
What is crime in one country, is virtue in another
What a nice mob you press fellows
are–wholesale scavengers
What’ll be the differ a hundred years from now
Whatever has been was a dream; whatever is now is real
When a child is born the mother also is born again
When you strike your camp, put out the fires
When God permits, shall man despair?
When a man laugh in the sun and think nothing of evil
Where the light is darkness
Where I should never hear the voice of the social Thou must
Who knows!
Who can understand a woman?
Who get a morbid enjoyment out of
misery
Who say ‘God bless you’ in New York!
They say ‘Damn you!’
Who never knew self-consciousness
Wit is always at the elbow of want
Without the money brains seldom win
alone
Woman’s deepest right and joy and pain in one–to comfort
Women only admitted to Heaven by the
intercession of husbands
Women are half saints, half fools
Women may leave you in the bright days
Women don’t go by evidence, but by
their feelings
World was only the size of four walls to a sick person
Worth while to have lived so long and to have seen so much
Would look back and not remember that she had a childhood
You went north towards heaven and south towards hell
You have lost your illusions
You never can really overtake a
newspaper lie
You can’t take time as the measure of life
You cannot live long enough to atone
for that impertinence
You do not shout dinner till you have your knife in the loaf
You never can make a scandal less by
trying to hide it
You’ve got blind rashness, and so you think you’re bold
You’ve got to be ready, that’s all
You–you all were so ready to suspect
Youth hungers for the vanities
Youth is the only comrade for youth
Youth’s a dream, middle age a delusion, old age a mistake
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