The man of regular life and rational mind never despairs.

But afterwards, is there nothing more for me in life - no true home - nothing to be dearer to me than myself?

Silence is of different kinds, and breathes different meanings.

I recalled the voice I had heard; again I questioned whence it came, as vainly as before: it seemed in me not in the external world. I asked, was it a mere nervous impression a delusion? I could not conceive or believe: it was more like an inspiration.

Jane Austin was a complete and most sensible lady, but a very incomplete and rather insensible (not senseless) woman. If this is heresy, I cannot help it.

Shake me off, then, sir--push me away; for I'll not leave you of my own accord.

Jane, be still; don't struggle so like a wild, frantic bird, that is rending its own plumage in its desperation." "I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being, with an independent will; which I now exert to leave you.