“They were staggered to learn that a real tangible person, living in Minnesota, and married to their own flesh-and-blood relation, could apparently believe that divorce may not always be immoral; that illegitimate children do not bear any special and guaranteed form of curse; that there are ethical authorities outside of the Hebrew Bible; that men have drunk wine yet not died in the gutter; that the capitalistic system of distribution and the Baptist wedding-ceremony were not known in the Garden of Eden; that mushrooms are as edible as corn-beef hash; that the word "dude" is no longer frequently used; that there are Ministers of the Gospel who accept evolution; that some persons of apparent intelligence and business ability do not always vote the Republican ticket straight; that it is not a universal custom to wear scratchy flannels next the skin in winter; that a violin is not inherently more immoral than a chapel organ; that some poets do not have long hair; and that Jews are not always peddlers or pants-makers."Where does she get all them theories?" marveled Uncle Whittier Smail; while Aunt Bessie inquired, "Do you suppose there's many folks got notions like hers? My! If there are," and her tone settled the fact that there were not, "I just don't know what the world's coming to!”

“She loved her sisters.They were incredibly different.When Lily laughed, Edythe was serious, carefree versus introspective. They were alike in only one respect: They were both undeniably beautiful. And for Bronywyn, their beauty was both a blessing and a curse. Any man who had ever shown remotely any interest in her always ended up gravitating toward one of her youngest sisters. Through them she had been able to see men for who they really were. They had saved her from making many a mistake in her younger days when she still believed someone was coming...someone who would love her and only her.Someone who would be her hero.Someone like the ghost who had come to her rescue that very afternoon.”

“Never was a Family more insistent on learning one another’s movements than were the Bunch. All of them volubly knew, or indignantly desired to know, where all the others had been every minute of the week.”

“I say,she is sinfully attractive when she's angry.You may not claim to have a way with the ladies,but when you want to make one mad,you are indeed an expert."Ranulf clenched his teeth and said nothing, but sent Tyr a flash of warning.Tyr dismissed the look and pressed on,opting for a flank attack. "You know that dress she was wearing? She would wear that color more often, complements that odd color of blue in her eyes."Ranulf sank onto the bench across the table from Tyr and raked his hands through his hair. "Take my advice and avoid looking too long at them.They can confound a man.Make him believe in lies.""You might be right," Tyr agreed and moved to pour himself some more wine. "But when a man can't think straight,is it she who is telling the lies or is it he who is telling them to himself?""If you are trying to make a point, don't.""No,no point." Tyr sighed and swirled his mug. "Just that she was looking pretty tonight. Did you not think so?""No.""Well,I did.I especially liked the hair. Normally I do not like stuff being all free like that,gets in the way.I usually prefer a woman's hair to be pulled back and tidy,but hers...well,I just might have to change my mind."Nothing from Ranulf.Not even a twitch.Damn.The man was stubborn.Tyr swallowed the mug's contents for fortification.If he got out of this with his skin still intact,he would be lucky.He had maybe one more shot before Ranulf got up to leave,so it had to hit-and hard.Tyr rocked the bench back and hummed, "Looked like silk,wonder if it feels like silk.I once had a woman with hair-""Damn you," Ranulf uttered through his teeth. "Be quiet or get out.""What do you care? You may not like her,but I do.And not just in the face.I'm actually looking forward to tomorrow and spending time with the ladt.And after her jumping onto the idea of coming hunting,I think she feels the same.""She does not like you.""I beg to disagree.She thinks I am charming. Said so herself.But then it wasn't I who said she was trying to seduce every man around her.”

“In Floral Heights and the other prosperous sections of Zenith, especially in the “young married set,” there were many women who had nothing to do. Though they had few servants, yet with gas stoves, electric ranges and dish-washers and vacuum cleaners, and tiled kitchen walls, their houses were so convenient that they had little housework, and much of their food came from bakeries and delicatessens. They had but two, one, or no children; and despite the myth that the Great War had made work respectable, their husbands objected to their “wasting time and getting a lot of crank ideas” in unpaid social work, and still more to their causing a rumor, by earning money, that they were not adequately supported. They worked perhaps two hours a day, and the rest of the time they ate chocolates, went to the motion-pictures, went window-shopping, went in gossiping twos and threes to card-parties, read magazines, thought timorously of the lovers who never appeared, and accumulated a splendid restlessness which they got rid of by nagging their husbands. The husbands nagged back.”

“Seeing the confounded look on the young soldier's face, Constance offered some advice. "You can try and follow, but you'll never catch her. And even if you did,you would then have to explain just why you thought her welfare more important than that of her sisters, which trust me,you don't want to have to defend. So if I were you,I would do as instructed and see to the safety of the group. For one thing is for certain, that doesn't include her ladyship anymore." Then she marched over to her horse,made a quick silent prayer,and struggled back onto the mare's back,cursing all the while.”

“Have you ever noticed,” said Dimble, “that the universe, and every bit of the universe is always hardening and narrowing and coming to a point?”His wife waited as those wait who know by long experience the mental processes of the person who is talking to them.“I mean this,” said Dimble in answer to the question she had not asked. “If you dip into any college, or school, or parish, or family – anything you like – at a given point in its history, you always find that there was a time before that point when there was more elbow room and contrasts weren’t quite so sharp; and that there’s going to be a time after that point when there is even less room for indecision and choices are even more momentous. Good is always getting better and bad is always getting worse: the possibilities of even apparent neutrality are always diminishing. The whole thing is sorting itself out all the time, coming to a point, getting sharper and harder.”