There's folks as make bad butter and trusten to the salt t' hide it.

She had forgotten his faults as we forgetthe sorrows of our departed childhood.

I've always felt that your belongings have never been on a level with you.

Here and there is born a Saint Theresa, foundress of nothing, whose loving heart-beats and sobs after an unattained goodness tremble off and are dispersed among hindrances, instead of centring in some...

Her anger said, as anger is apt to say, that God was with her- that all heaven, though it were crowded with spirits watching them, must be on her side.

My life is too short, and God's work is too great for me to think of making a home for myself in this world.

Our consiousness rarely registers the beginning of a growth within us anymore than without us: there have been many circulations of the sap before we detect the smallest sign of the bud.

I would not creep along the coast but steerOut in mid-sea, by guidance of the stars.

Looking at the mother, you might hope that the daughter would become like her, which is a prospective advantage equal to a dowry-the mother too often standing behind the daughter like a malignant...

It had never occurred to him that he should live in any other than what he would have called an ordinary way, with green glasses for hock, and excellent waiting at table. In warming himself at French...

Men and women make sad mistakes about their own symptoms, taking their vague, uneasy longings sometimes for genius, sometimes for religion, and oftener still for a mighty love.

When uncultured minds, confined to a narrow range of personal experience, are under the pressure of continued misfortune, their inward life is apt to become a perpetually repeated round of sad and...

I call it improper pride to let fool's notions hinder you from doing a good action. There's no sort of work," said Caleb, with fervor, putting out his hand and moving it up and down to mark his...

And Casaubon had done a wrong to Dorothea in marrying her. A man was bound to know himself better than that, and if he chose to grow grey crunching bones in a cavern, he had no business to be luring a...

When the commonplace "We must all die" transforms itself suddenly into the acute consciousness "I must die-- and soon," then death grapples us, and his fingers are cruel; afterwards, he may come to...

He has got no good red blood in his body, said Sir James.No. Somebody put a drop under a magnifying-glass and it was all semicolons and parentheses, said Mrs. Cadwallader.

The promise was void, like so many other sweet, illusory promises of our childhood; void as promises made in Eden before the seasons were divided, and when the starry blossoms grew side by side with...

I daresay some would never get their eyes opened if it were not for a violent shock from the consequences of their own actions