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Hypocrites weep, and you cannot tell their tears from those of saints but no bad man ever laughed sweetly yet.
Ouida
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Ouida
Age: 69 †
Born: 1839
Born: January 1
Died: 1908
Died: January 25
Novelist
Writer
Bury St Edmunds
Suffolk
Marie Louise de la Ramée
Marie Louise Ramé
Marie Louise de la Ramee
Marie Louise Rame
Saint
Laughter
Tears
Sweetly
Tell
Hypocrites
Cannot
Hypocrite
Ever
Weep
Men
Saints
Laughed
More quotes by Ouida
Count art by gold, and it fetters the feet it once winged.
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Emulation is active virtue envy is brooding malice.
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Truth is a rough, honest, helter-skelter terrier that none like to see brought into their drawing rooms.
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Honor is an old-world thing but it smells sweet to those in whose hand it is strong.
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[On Christianity:] Its lip-service and its empty rites have made it the easiest of all tasks for the usurer to cloak his cruelties, the miser to hide his avarice, the lawyer to condone his lies, the sinner of all social sins to purchase the social immunity from them by outward deference to churches.
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Talent wears well, genius wears itself out talent drives a snug brougham in fact genius, a sun-chariot in fancy.
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Fame has only the span of the day, they say. But to live in the hearts of people-that is worth something.
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When passion and habit long lie in company it is only slowly and with incredulity that habit awakens to finds its companion fled, itself alone.
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It is hard work to be good when you are very little and very hungry, and have many sticks to beat you, and no mother's lips to kiss you.
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One must pray first, but afterwards one must help oneself. God does not care for cowards.
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Who has passed by the fates of disillusion has died twice.
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It needs a great nature to bear the weight of a great gratitude.
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Even of death Christianity has made a terror which was unknown to the gay calmness of the Pagan and the stoical repose of the Indian.
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The scorn of genius is the most arrogant and the most boundless of all scorn.
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Intensely selfish people are always very decided as to what they wish. They do not waste their energies in considering the good of others.
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Friendship is such an elastic word. There never was an age when it stood for so many things in private, and was yet so absolutely non-existent in fact.
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Indifference is the invincible grant of the world.
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Opposition to a man in love is like oil to fire.
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Women hope that the dead love may revive but men know that of all dead things none are so past recall as a dead passion.
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It is the north wind that lashes men into Vikings it is the soft, luscious south wind which lulls them to lotus dreams.
Ouida