The word book acted as a transient stimulus

When you are inquisitive, Jane, you always make me smile. You open your eyes like an eager bird, and make every now and then a restless movement, as if answers in speech did not flow fast enough for you, and you wanted to read the tablet of one's heart.

I am not an angel," I asserted; "and I will not be one till I die: I will be myself.

A ruffled mind makes a restless pillow.

No reflection was to be allowed now, not one glance was to be cast back; not even one forward. Not one thought was to be given either to the past or the future. The first was a page so heavenly sweet, so deadly sad, that to read one line of it would dissolve my courage and break down my energy. The last was an awful blank, something like then world when the deluge was gone by.

Strange that grief should now almost choke me, because another human being's eye has failed to greet mine.

I ask you to pass through life at my side—to be my second self, and best earthly companion.