Quarrel? Nonsense; we have not quarreled. If one is not to get into a rage sometimes, what is the good of being friends?

She hates everything that is not what she longs for.

Strange, that some of us, with quick alternate vision, see beyond our infatuations, and even while we rave on the heights, behold the wide plain where our persistent self pauses and awaits us.

Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person; having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but to pour them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, knowing that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then, with a breath of kindness, blow the rest away.

I wish always to be quoted as George Eliot.

When we get to wishing a great deal for ourselves, whatever we get soon turns into mere limitation and exclusion.

One's self-satisfaction is an untaxed kind of property which it is very unpleasant to find deprecated.