The things we do!

What you call dulness I
call repose. Give me a calm woman, a slow woman,--a lazy, majestic woman.
Show me a gracious virgin bearing a lily: not a leering giggler frisking
a rattle. A lively woman would be the death of me. Look at Mrs. Mack,
perpetually nodding, winking, grinning, throwing out signals which you
are to be at the trouble to answer! I thought her delightful for three
days; I declare I was in love with her--that is, as much as I can be
after--but never mind that, I feel I shall never be really in love again.
Why shouldn't the Sherrick be stupid, I say? About great beauty there
should always reign a silence. As you look at the great stars, the great
ocean, any great scene of nature: you hush, sir. You laugh at a
pantomime, but you are still in a temple. When I saw the great Venus of
the Louvre, I thought--Wert thou alive, O goddess, thou shouldst never
open those lovely lips but to speak lowly, slowly: thou shouldst never
descend from that pedestal but to walk stately to some near couch, and
assume another attitude of beautiful calm.


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