"Do you like him much?" "I told you I liked him a little. Where is the use of caring for him so very much: he is full of faults." "Is he?" "All boys are." "More than girls?" "Very likely."

Give him enough rope and he will hang himself.

I loved him very much - more than I could trust myself to say - more than words had power to express." - Jane Eyre

If all the world hated you, and believed you wicked, while your own conscience approved you, and absolved you from guilt, you would not be without friends.

Oft a little morning rain Foretells a pleasant day.

[O]ur honeymoon will shine our life long: its beams will only fade over your grave or mine.

The writer who possesses the creative gift owns something of which he is not always master - something that, at times, strangely wills and works for itself.