extreme happiness invites religion almost as much as extreme misery.

What is it about the English countryside — why is the beauty so much more than visual? Why does it touch one so?

I am a restlessness inside a stillness inside a restlessness.

Oh, wise young judge.

I'm convinced England's overflowing with eccentric people, places, happenings. Indeed, you might say eccentricity's normal in England.

And at last father flung the rug off as if it were hampering him and strode over to the table saying, 'cocoa, cocoa!'-- it might have been the most magnificent drink in the world; which, personally, I think it is.

Ah, but you're the insidious type--Jane Eyre with of touch of Becky Sharp. A thoroughly dangerous girl.