They are coming to teach us good manners!” I replied in English. “But they won’t succeed, because we are gods.
Wasting talent is a sin. I’m not big on sin, but I know a sin when I see one staring me in the face. I’m not big on sin, but I know a sin when I see one staring me in the face. It’s just not courteous to not use or wear something that somebody’s given you as a well-meaning gift. It goes against Southern ways, not that God is Southern by any stretch of the imagination, but I do think He expects us to be an example for the rest of the country, as far as manners go.
The actuality that the heart does not want to feel, doesn’t negate the certitude that it once felt and will still feel.
Your mood shouldn’t dictate your manners.
Respect for ourselves guides our morals; respect for others guides our manners
…One pretends that manners are the formalisation of basic kindness and consideration, but a great deal of the time they’re simply aesthetics dressed up as moral principles, aren’t they?
…when a phone call competes for attention with a real-world conversation, it wins. Everyone knows the distinctive high-and-dry feeling of being abandoned for a phone call, and of having to compensate – with quite elaborate behaviours = for the sudden half-disappearance of the person we were just speaking to. ‘Go ahead!’ we say. ‘Don’t mind us! Oh look, here’s a magazine I can read!’ When the call is over, other rituals come into play, to minimise the disruption caused and to restore good feeling.
In the North, he discoverd, courtesy was considered a barometer of genuine esteem; for any decently brought up Southerner, good manners were simply habitual.
…I’d been raised by my parents to believe barfing your feelings on other people was the height of impoliteness…
I smiled back, the importance of manners, my mother always said, is inversely related to how inclined one is to use them, or, in other words, sometimes politeness is all that stands between oneself and madness.