The Way We Live Now

by Anthony Trollope

The woman was false from head to foot, but there was much of good in her, false though she was.

Altogether the mystery was rather pleasant as the money was certain.

"They who win are the sharpers. They who lose are the dupes. I would sooner that he were a fool than a knave."

review, together with the reading of the book, consumed altogether perhaps an hour of Mr Booker's time. He made no attempt to cut the pages, but here and there read those that were open. He had done this kind of thing so often, that he knew well what he was about. He could have reviewed such a book when he was three parts asleep.

suppose it will make no difference soon whom one knows, and whom one doesn't.

When alone—and she was much alone—she would build castles in the air, which were bright with art and love, rather than with gems and gold.

"As for me I shall give over caring about gentlemen now. The first man that comes to me with four or five thousand a year, I'll take him, though he'd come out of Newgate or Bed- lam. And I shall always say it has been papa's doing."

Was he not a baronet, and a gentleman, and a very handsome fellow, and a man of the world who had been in a crack regiment? If this surfeited sponge of speculation, this crammed commercial cormorant, wanted more than that for his daughter why could he not say so without asking disgusting questions such as these,—questions which it was quite impossible that a gentleman should answer?

"Ah, Paul, you were not born for commerce. And I will grant you this, that commerce is not noble unless it rises to great heights. To live in plenty by sticking to your counter from nine in the morning to nine at night, is not a fine life. But this man with a scratch of his pen can send out or call in millions of dollars. Do they say here that he is not honest?"

"Ah,—you mean that he is bold in breaking those precepts of yours about coveting worldly wealth. All men and women break that commandment, but they do so in a stealthy fashion, half drawing back the grasping hand, praying to be delivered from temptation while they filch only a little, pretending to despise the only thing that is dear to them in the world. Here is a man who boldly says that he recognises no such law; that wealth is power, and that power is good, and that the more a man has of wealth the greater and the stronger and the nobler be can be. I love a man who can turn the hobgoblins inside out and burn the wooden bogies that he meets."

there is a fabric which the milliners I think call grenadine,—coming

"I am an enthusiastic lover of beneficent audacity,"

It seems that if we can only open the interior of Africa a little further, we can get everything that is wanted to complete the chemical combination necessary for feeding the human race. Isn't that a grand idea,

Unanimity is everything in the direction of such an undertaking as this. With unanimity we can do—everything." Mr Melmotte in the ecstasy of his enthusiasm lifted up both his hands over his head. "Without unanimity we can do—nothing." And the two hands fell. "Unanimity should be printed everywhere about a Board-room. It should, indeed,

Gentlemen who don't know the nature of credit, how strong it is,—as the air,—to buoy you up; how slight it is,—as a mere vapour,—when roughly touched, can do an amount of mischief of which they themselves don't in the least understand the extent! What is it you want, Mr Montague?"

People live now in a way that I don't comprehend. If this be your way of living, I have no right to complain."

There was certainly no help to be found anywhere. It may be well doubted whether upon the whole the telegraph has not added more to the annoyances than to the comforts of life, and whether the gentlemen who spent all the public money without authority ought not to have been punished with special severity in that they had injured humanity, rather than pardoned because of the good they had produced. Who is benefited by telegrams? The newspapers are robbed of all their old interest, and the very soul of intrigue is destroyed. Poor Marie, when she heard her fate, would certainly have gladly hanged Mr Scudamore.

Though he was nearly drunk, he was not drunk enough to forget the condition of his affairs. There is an intoxication that makes merry in the midst of affliction,—and there is an intoxication that banishes affliction by producing oblivion. But again there is an intoxication which is conscious of itself though it makes the feet unsteady, and the voice thick, and the brain foolish; and which brings neither mirth nor oblivion.

At that time there had been arranged at the offices in Abchurch Lane a mode of double ingress and egress,—a front stairs and a back stairs approach and exit, as is always necessary with very great men,—in reference to which arrangement the honour and dignity attached to each is exactly contrary to that which generally prevails in the world; the front stairs being intended for everybody, and being both slow and uncertain, whereas the back stairs are quick and sure, and are used only for those who are favoured.

Men will hardly go to heaven, Mr Carbury, by following forms only because their fathers followed the same forms before them." "I suppose men will go to heaven, my Lord, by doing as they would be done by." "There can be no safer lesson. But we must hope that some may be saved even if they have not practised at all times that grand self-denial. Who comes up to that teaching? Do you not wish for, nay, almost demand, instant pardon for any trespass that you may commit,—of temper, or manner, for instance? and are you always ready to forgive in that way yourself? Do you not writhe with indignation at being wrongly judged by others who condemn you without knowing your actions or the causes of them; and do you never judge others after that fashion?"

How could she tell parents such as these that she was engaged to marry a man who at the present moment went to synagogue on a Saturday and carried out every other filthy abomination common to the despised people?

That he was enriching himself by the daily plunder of the innocent she had taken for granted since she had first heard of him. She had but a confused idea of any difference between commerce and fraud.

the working-classes were in favour of Melmotte, partly from their love of a man who spends a great deal of money, partly from the belief that he was being ill-used,—partly, no doubt, from that occult sympathy which is felt for crime, when the crime committed is injurious to the upper classes.

If he's fixed about anything, it's about the Jews. An accursed race;—think of that, Georgiana;—expelled from Paradise."

When large sums of money are concerned there is seldom much of personal indignation between man and man. The loss of fifty pounds or of a few hundreds may create personal wrath;—but fifty thousand require equanimity.