Nice distinctions are troublesome. It is so much easier to say that a thing is black, than to discriminate the particular shade of brown, blue, or green, to which it really belongs. It is so much easier to make up your mind that your neighbour is good for nothing, than to enter into all the circumstances that would oblige you to modify that opinion.
Besides, think of all the virtuous declamation, all the penetrating observation, which had been built up entirely on the fundamental position
that the Countess was a very objectionable person indeed, and which would be utterly overturned and nullified by the destruction of that premiss…
—George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans), Scenes of Clerical Life ch. 4 (1858)