My mom was a saint. She taught me to be terminally nice.
It is not only a troublesome but slavish to be nice [fastidious].
Everything you've heard about Canadians apologizing profusely for things they shouldn't be sorry about is absolutely true. It is both sweet, endearing and worrisome at the same time. Having someone apologize for no reason actually makes me feel as though I should apologize for their need to apologize.
English life, while very pleasant, is rather bland. I expected kindness and gentility and I found it, but there is such a thing as too much couth.
Being polite does not mean being mummified.
My eagerness to please sometimes gets the better of me.
I have seen people rude by being over-polite.
I am terribly British. Especially in the eyes of Americans. I drink several gallons of tea a day, I'm often excessively polite and it's only through many years of expensive and painful dental work that I don't have bad teeth.
He was so excessively polite that Wallendar suspected he had endured many humiliations in his life.
His courtesy was somewhat extravagant. He would write and thank people who wrote to thank him for wedding presents and when he encountered anyone as punctilious as himself the correspondence ended only with death.
