Caprice

It was simply caprice that led them to shoplift.

I'm not sure whether this is some new caprice or a permanent commitment.

George Frederick Handel, unquestionably the greatest master of music the world has ever known, was born at Halle, in Upper Saxony, on the 24th of February, 1684. Scarcely could he speak, before he articulated musical sounds; and his father, a physician, then upwards of sixty, having destined him for the law, grieved at the child’s propensity to music, banished from his house all musical instruments. But the immortal spark of genius, which Heaven had kindled in the infant’s bosom, was not to be extinguished by the caprice of a mistaken parent. The child contrived to get a little clavichord into a garret; where, applying himself after the family retired to rest, he soon found means to produce both melody and harmony.

Though more thoughtful than Madame de Mercœur, yet it asked far more knowledge of society—that wilderness of small intricacies—for her to penetrate into the motives of those who seemed so suddenly struck with her fascination; but she was too clear-headed to be deceived, and set it all down under one general belief in caprice.

It would have been a great privilege to be the mistress of an old time-honoured mansion, to call oaks and elms her own, to know that acres of gardens were submitted to her caprices, to look at herds of cows and oxen, and be aware that they lowed on her own pastures.

She is said to be the finest swordswoman on the Continent. Yet, notwithstanding her caprices, she is a noble-minded woman.

The only difference between a caprice and a life-long passion is that a caprice lasts a little longer.

After that we cast off all allegiance to immediate, tangible, and time-touched things, and entered a fantastic world of hushed unreality in which the narrow, ribbon-like road rose and fell and curved with an almost sentient and purposeful caprice amidst the tenantless green peaks and half-deserted valleys

Yet, Britain, vvhence this Caprice of thy Sons, / VVhich thro' their various ranks vvith fury runs? / The cauſe is plain, a cauſe vvhich vve muſt bleſs; / For Caprice is the Daughter of Succeſs, […]

This last act of our lives seldom belies the former tenor of them, for stupidity, caprice, and unmeaning spite. All that we seem to think of is to manage matters so […] as to do as little good, and to plague and disappoint as many people as possible.