Her own misery filled her heart—there was no room in it for other people's sorrow.
You are a good young man," she said. "But I do not like husbands. I will never have another.
Vague memories hang about the mind like cobwebs.
We get a deal o' useless things about us, only because we've got the money to spend.
... learning to love any one is like an increase of property, -- it increases care, and brings many new fears lest precious things should come to harm.
I like not only to be loved, but also to be told I am loved.