I want leisure to read—an immense amount.

You are the loveliest thing that I have ever known.

Then a strange thing happened. She turned to him and smiled, and as he saw her smile every rag of anger and hurt vanity dropped from him — as though his very moods were but the outer ripples of her own, as though emotion rose no longer in his breast unless she saw fit to pull an omnipotent controlling thread.

Suddenly she realized that what she was regretting was not the lost past but the lost future, not what had not been but what would never be.

I wasn't actually in love, but I felt a sort of tender curiosity.

I want to tell you about your heart— you've probably been neglecting your heart—and you don’t know.

He smiled understandingly-much more than understandingly. It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced--or seemed to face--the whole eternal world for an instant, and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself, and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey.