Cold-hearted

The songs were sung by every one who possessed so much as an echo of a voice: they were quoted—copied—got by heart—in fact, we cannot imagine how the world of singers went on in the days when ‘Tara’s Hall,’ and ‘The young May Moon,’ and ‘The Meeting of the Waters,’ were strains unborn. And now, after so many changes and casualties have passed over it, when the work is at last brought to a conclusion, when the last tones of the harp have died away, those must be colder-hearted than ourselves who can avoid remembering how many who welcomed the first with eager gladness, are now deaf to the sweet cunning of music for ever!

Philip was not a spoiled child, I admit. But his parents did their duty by him, as they have done by us all! Our interests have been, through life, their first object; and they have sought no other than domestic pleasures. But even were it otherwise, is a child to calculate its filial duty as though the mere repayment of a debt?—Dearest Mrs. Saville,—Philip is colder-hearted than a stone!

“Oh, Ellen, can’t you stop sneezing!” / “Colder-hearted than a Toad, that boy is!” observed Ellen to her handkerchief. “As if I did it for choice! A-tishoo!”

She walked to the front office and saw the body of Harry Knapp. / Mrs. Streeter gazed down upon the corpse for several seconds. “Miserable scum. Good riddance, I say. Look how he’s making a bloody mess of the floor. Like I didn’t have anything better to do than clean up this place.” / Eden returned to Brad and whispered, “That’s the coldest-hearted woman I’ve ever met. It’s a wonder the sheriff doesn’t freeze to death living with her.”