Civilization is only savagery silver-gilt. - H. Rider Haggard

You may all have noticed that however piously disposed, there is a point at which the majority of women become very practical indeed.

It seems that in this world we never can be content . . . we only think that we should be if things were otherwise than they are.

On, on we went, till at last the east began to blush like the cheek of a girl. Then there came faint rays of primrose light, that changed presently to golden bars, through which the dawn glided out across the desert. The stars grew pale and paler still, till at last they vanished; the golden moon waxed wan, and her mountain ridges stood out against her sickly face like the bones on the cheek of a dying man. Then came spear upon spear of light flashing far away across the boundless wilderness, piercing and firing the veils of mist, till the desert was draped in a tremulous golden glow, and it was day.