I may do some good before I am dead--be a sort of success as a frightful example of what not to do; and so illustrate a moral story.
A blaze of love and extinction, was better than a lantern glimmer of the same which should last long years.
A novel is an impression, not an argument; and there the matter must rest.
Ladies know what to guard against, because they read novels that tell them of these tricks.
It was the touch of the imperfect upon the would-be perfect that gave the sweetness, because it was that which gave the humanity
A woman would rather visit her own grave than the place where she has been young and beautiful after she is aged and ugly.
The value of old age depends upon the person who reaches it. To some men of early performance it is useless. To others, who are late to develop, it just enables them to finish the job.
So each had a private little sun for her soul to bask in; some dream, some affection, some hobby, or at least some remote and distant hope.
The resolution to avoid an evil is seldom framed till the evil is so far advanced as to make avoidance impossible.
I wish I had never been born--there or anywhere else.
Don't think of what's past!" said she. "I am not going to think outside of now. Why should we! Who knows what tomorrow has in store?
The defective can be more than the entire.
Let me enjoy the earth no less because the all-enacting light that fashioned forth its loveliness had other aims than my delight.
And at home by the fire, whenever you look up there I shall be— and whenever I look up, there will be you. -Gabriel Oak
You concede nothing to me and I have to concede everything to you.
WEATHERS This is the weather the cuckoo likes, And so do I; When showers betumble the chestnut spikes, And nestlings fly; And the little brown nightingale bills his best, And they sit outside at 'The Traveller's Rest,' And maids come forth sprig-muslin drest, And citizens dream of the south and west, And so do I. This is the weather the shepherd shuns, And so do I; When beeches drip in browns and duns, And thresh and ply; And hill-hid tides throb, throe on throe, And meadow rivulets overflow, And drops on gate bars hang in a row, And rooks in families homeward go, And so do I.
...she moved about in a mental cloud of many-coloured idealities, which eclipsed all sinister contingencies by its brightness.
Is a woman a thinking unit at all, or a fraction always wanting its integer?
It may have been observed that there is no regular path for getting out of love as there is for getting in. Some people look upon marriage as a short cut that way, but it has been known to fail.
That aspects are within us; and who seems Most kingly is the King.
Like the British Constitution, she owes her success in practice to her inconsistencies in principle.
But his dreams were as gigantic as his surroundings were small.
Why it was that upon this beautiful feminine tissue, sensitive as gossamer, and practically blank as snow as yet, there should have been traced such a coarse pattern as it was doomed to receive; why so often the coarse appropriates the finer thus, the wrong man the woman, the wrong women the man, many years of analytical philosophy have failed to explain to our sense of order
George's son had done his work so thoroughly that he was considered too good a workman to live, and was, in fact, taken and tragically shot at twelve o'clock that same day—another instance of the untoward fate which so often attends dogs and other philosophers who follow out a train of reasoning to its logical conclusion, and attempt perfectly consistent conduct in a world made up so largely of compromise.
There is always an inertia to be overcome in striking out a new line of conduct – not more in ourselves, it seems, than in circumscribing events, which appear as if leagued together to allow no novelties in the way of amelioration.
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