Wish I'd Written It

I enjoy Wharton's prose the more for being sure that the impending weekend full of house guests at Darwin Manor will not be dull, though it may be loud:

That very afternoon they had seemed full of brilliant qualities; now she saw that they were merely dull in a loud way. Under the glitter of their opportunities she saw the poverty of their achievement.
(House of Mirth, Edith Wharton)

But then, we don't represent the toast of the gilded age.