But one in the place of God and not God, is as it were a falsehood; it is the mother falsehood from which all idolatry is derived.

But Life will not yield up her more intimate secrets for eighteenpence an hour; and these earnest young ladies and artsome young men, when they have filled portfolios with such sordid life studies, know less about living humanity than they did before, …

They all looked directly at the ſcullion,—the ſcullion had juſt been ſcouring a fiſh-kettle.

[…] for to narrate, to narrativize, in fiction or criticism, is also to exercise power.