In secret pleasure — secret tears This changeful life has slipped away
I wish I were a girl again, half savage and hardy, and free... Why am I so changed? I'm sure I should be myself were I once among the heather on those hills.
Worthless as wither'd weeds.
It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn.
Alas, for the effects of bad tea and bad temper!
If he loved with all the powers of his puny being, he couldn't love as much in eighty years as I could in a day.