We can't behave like people in novels, though, can we?

... caprice is as ruinous as routine.

It's you who are telling me; opening my eyes to things I'd looked at so long that I'd ceased to see them.

And you'll sit beside me, and we'll look, not at visions, but at realities.

She was very near hating him now; yet the sound of his voice, the way the light fell on his thin, dark hair, the way he sat and moved and wore his clothes—she was conscious that even these trivial things were inwoven with her deepest life.

There are moments when a man's imagination, so easily subdued to what it lives in, suddenly rises above its daily level and surveys the long windings of destiny.

..but it seemed to him that the tie between husband and wife, if breakable in prosperity, should be indissoluble in misfortune.