There was no escape from the letter-writer who, a hundred or a hundred and twenty-five years ago, captured a coveted correspondent. It… — Agnes Repplier Copy Share Image
I am seventy years old, a gray age weighted with uncompromising biblical allusions. It ought to have a gray outlook, but it… — Agnes Repplier Copy Share Image
A vast deal of ingenuity is wasted every year in evoking the undesirable, in the careful construction of objects which burden life.… — Agnes Repplier Copy Share Image
Why do so many ingenious theorists give fresh reasons every year for the decline of letter writing, and why do they assume,… — Agnes Repplier Copy Share Image
Who that has plodded on to middle age would take back upon his shoulders ten of the vanished years, with their mingled… — Agnes Repplier Copy Share Image
I am eighty years old. There seems to be nothing to add to this statement. I have reached the age of undecorated… — Agnes Repplier Copy Share Image
Miserliness is the one vice that grows stronger with increasing years. It yields its sordid pleasures to the end. — Agnes Repplier Copy Share Image
The dog is guided by kindly instinct to the man or woman whose heart is open to his advances. The cat often leaves the… — Agnes Repplier Copy Share Image
Letter-writing on the part of a busy man or woman is the quintessence of generosity. — Agnes Repplier Copy Share Image
To have given pleasure to one human being is a recollection that sweetens life. — Agnes Repplier Copy Share Image
Believers in political faith-healing enjoy a supreme immunity from doubt. — Agnes Repplier Copy Share Image
Philadelphians are every whit as mediocre as their neighbors, but they seldom encourage each other in mediocrity by giving it a more agreeable name. — Agnes Repplier Copy Share Image
When the milk of human kindness turns sour, it is a singularly unpalatable draught. — Agnes Repplier Copy Share Image
Conversation in its happiest development is a link, equally exquisite and adequate, between mind and mind, a system by which men approach one another… — Agnes Repplier Copy Share Image
What monstrous absurdities and paradoxes have resisted whole batteries of serious arguments, and then crumbled swiftly into dust before the ringing death-knell of a… — Agnes Repplier Copy Share Image
the labors of the true critic are more essential to the author, even, than to the reader. — Agnes Repplier Copy Share Image
He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog. You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and… — Agnes Repplier Copy Share Image
Our dogs will love and admire the meanest of us, and feed our colossal vanity with their uncritical homage. — Agnes Repplier Copy Share Image
Erudition, like a bloodhound, is a charming thing when held firmly in leash, but it is not so attractive when turned loose upon a… — Agnes Repplier Copy Share Image
