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There is one fragment of fact about this Domenico that greatly enlarges our knowledge of him. He was a wool-weaver, as we know; he also kept a tavern, and no doubt justified the adventure on the plea that it would bring him customers for his woollen cloth; for your buyer and seller never lacks a reason either for his selling or buying.
The boy who fights because he lacks control of temper needs careful training. He gets a good deal of discipline on the playground and street, but it is not always effective; the beatings may only further undermine control. But the lack of self-control will manifest itself in many ways and must be remedied at all points. The discipline of daily living in the family must come into play here.
Anthropology, then, should not disdain what might be termed the method of the historical novel. To study the plot without studying the characters will never make sense of the drama of human life. It may seem a truism, but is perhaps worth recollecting at the start, that no man or woman lacks individuality altogether, even if it cannot be regarded in a particular case as a high individuality.
Hence his music at its worst is the merest drivel ever set down by a great composer; hence at anything but its best it lacks concentrated passion and dramatic intensity; more than any other composer's it has one prevailing note, a note of deepest melancholy; and therefore, when a few pieces are known, most of the rest seem barren of what is wanted by those who seek chiefly in music the expression of all the human passions.
But in public speaking he is timid, cannot produce his voice, and has a provincial accent; the consequence is, he gets laughed at in company, lacks fluency, stammers and loses his thread especially when he emphasizes these defects by an attempt at flowers of speech.
Tabs had the feeling as he limped along the pavement with Terry tripping at his side, that the eyes of the house which they had left followed them followed them jealously, romantically, expectantly. There was only one way in which they could give satisfaction and that was by returning to it engaged. "He lacks ardor. Perhaps, after all, he's too old!" Lady Beddow's criticism drummed in his mind.
Yesterday, Lina said to me that she admired very much all you do, but that she preferred Salammbo to your modern descriptions. His mind is like him, beyond ordinary proportions. In that he is like Victor Hugo, at least as much as like Balzac, but he has the taste and discernment that Hugo lacks, and he is an artist which Balzac was not. Is he then more than both? Chi lo sa?
"And now abideth faith, hope, and charity, and the greatest of these is charity." Man has faith, he has hope; but he lacks, to a large extent, in the charities which come to woman as gifts of God, because of which Christ employed her as an agency to win men back to faith in God.
But her criticism finds support in quite different arguments; an idealist lack of clearness enfolds the end to be attained, and still more the means to it. She knows historical facts well enough, but lacks insight into the historical process of development; and still less does she possess a clear comprehension of economic relationships.
Occasionally there may be a scuffle, perhaps between a Blackcap and a Lesser Whitethroat, or between a Garden-Warbler and a Blackcap, but it is of short duration and lacks vigour. Apart, however, from such temporary disturbances, there is no real rupture in their relations, and certainly nothing to lead one to suppose that the bickerings are determined by the functioning of any specific instinct.
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