How we cite our quotes: (Chapter, Paragraph)
Quote #4
"For, comparatively inexperienced as you are, my dear young friend, did you never observe how little, very little, confidence, there is? I mean between man and man—more particularly between stranger and stranger. In a sad world it is the saddest fact. Confidence! I have sometimes almost thought that confidence is fled; that confidence is the New Astrea—emigrated—vanished—gone." Then softly sliding nearer, with the softest air, quivering down and looking up, "could you now, my dear young sir, under such circumstances, by way of experiment, simply have confidence in me?" (5, 17)
Weeds, our resident "unfortunate man," is punch-drunk on how much he loves people, and he's really stressed about the fact that so few humans trust one another in this world. Here, he's giving the scholar an earful about how important it is that not only friends but perfect strangers too put faith in one another.
Quote #5
"—My dear fellow, tell me how I can serve you."
"By dispatching yourself, Mr. Popinjay-of-the-world, into the heart of the Lunar Mountains. You are another of them. Out of my sight!" (24,10-11)
Nothing like a shove-off when someone offers you his or her goodwill. Pitch is just not having a friendship with Frank. Worse, by telling Frank to go to the Lunar Mountains, Pitch is at once saying, "I want you as far away as outer space," and calling him a lunatic. How rude.
Quote #6
"What, sir, to say nothing more, can one be forever dealing in macassar oil, hair dyes, cosmetics, false moustaches, wigs, and toupees, and still believe that men are wholly what they look to be? What think you, sir, are a thoughtful barber's reflections, when, behind a careful curtain, he shaves the thin, dead stubble off a head, and then dismisses it to the world, radiant in curling auburn? To contrast the shamefaced air behind the curtain, the fearful looking forward to being possibly discovered there by a prying acquaintance, with the cheerful assurance and challenging pride with which the same man steps forth again, a gay deception, into the street, while some honest, shock-headed fellow humbly gives him the wall! Ah, sir, they may talk of the courage of truth, but my trade teaches me that truth sometimes is sheepish. Lies, lies, sir, brave lies are the lions!" (43, 14)
Talk about disillusioned. Years of helping people cover up perceived flaws within the beauty industry has left the barber feeling like no one's the real deal. This kind of distrust breeds misanthropy, because thinking everyone is fake makes it kind of hard to make friends. The barber's also kind of judgmental for someone who's trusted with other people's secrets.