The keynote of simple folk is bad manners, familiarity. They intrude on one's private soul.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
We confess our bad qualities to others out of fear of appearing naive or ridiculous by not being aware of them.
Virtue, perhaps, is nothing more than politeness of soul.
Good manners is the art of making those people easy with whom we converse. Whoever makes the fewest people uneasy is the best bred in the room.
Good manners are appreciated as much as bad manners are abhorred.
Class is considerate of others. It knows that good manners is nothing more than a series of petty sacrifices.
Manners are like the shadows of virtues, they are the momentary display of those qualities which our fellow creatures love and respect.
To the real artist in humanity, what are called bad manners are often the most picturesque and significant of all.
One of the things that hold together a human society is the existence of basic politeness among its members.
A bad manner spoils everything, even reason and justice; a good one supplies everything, gilds a No, sweetens a truth, and adds a touch of beauty to old age itself.
Manners are of such great consequence to the novelist that any kind will do. Bad manners are better than no manners at all, and because we are losing our customary manners, we are probably overly conscious of them; this seems to be a condition that produces writers.