Joyce’s Reviews > The Professor > Status Update

Then I respect her talent; the idea of marrying a doll or a fool was always abhorrent to me: I know that a pretty doll, a fair fool, might do well enough for the honeymoon; but when passion cooled, how dreadful to find a lump of wax and wood laid in my bosom, a half idiot clasped in my arms,

I know she is not what the world calls pretty—no matter, there is harmony in her aspect, and I like it; her brown hair, her blue eye, the freshness of her cheek, the whiteness of her neck, all suit my taste.

though not brave singly, they were relentless acting en masse

I am not a professor.

Oh, professor, here in Belgium, means a teacher, that is all.

I'd recommend you to travel.

What! without money?

You must travel in search of money, man. You may get to Brussels, for instance, for five or six pounds, if you know how to manage with economy.

Necessity would teach me if I didn't.

They have disowned me, so talk no more about it.

Do you regret it, William?

No.

Why not, lad?

Because they are not people with whom I could ever have had any sympathy.

I say you are one of them.

That merely proves that you know nothing at all about it. I am my mother's son, but not my uncles' nephew.

I had got away from Bigben Close w/out a breach of resolution; without injury to my self-respect. I had forced circumstances; circumstances had freed me. Life was again open to me; no longer was its horizon limited by the high black wall surrounding Crimsworth's mill.

If ever I hear of your setting foot on an inch of ground belonging to me, I'll hire a man to cane you.

It is not likely you'll have the chance; once off your premises, what temptation can I have to return to them? I leave a prison, I leave a tyrant; I leave what is worse than the worst that can lie before me, so no fear of my coming back.

Men like Crimsworth, if firmly and calmly resisted, always abate something of their exorbitant insolence; he had no mind to be brought before a magistrate

greasehorn (This last time is, I believe, purely -shire, and alludes to the horn of black, rancid whale-oil, usually to be seen suspended to cart-wheels, and employed for greasing the same.)