He perplexes me, as I say, to death, and though he tires out my patience, he still fascinates me.

Sometimes I think he has n't a grain of conscience, and sometimes I think that, in a way, he has an excess.

He takes things at once too easily and too hard; he is both too lax and too tense, too reckless and too ambitious, too cold and too passionate.

He has developed faster even than you prophesied, and for good and evil alike he takes up a formidable space.

There 's too much of him for me, at any rate.