Oh the gladness of her gladness when she's glad, And the sadness of her sadness when she's sad, But the gladness of her gladness And the sadness of her sadness Are as nothing, Charles, To the badness of her badness when she's bad.
It has been said of the unseen army of the dead, on their everlasting march, that when they are passing a rural cricket ground, the Englishmen fall out of the ranks for a moment to lean over a gate and smile.
It's a sort of bloom on a woman. If you have it, you don't need to have anything else, and if you don't have it, it doesn't much matter what else you have. Some women, the few, have charm for all; and most have charm for one. But some have charm for none.