There is no killing the suspicion that deceit has once begotten.
In high vengeance there is noble scorn.
Saints and martyrs had never interested Maggie so much as sages and poets.
Here undoubtedly lies the chief poetic energy: - in the force of imagination that pierces or exalts the solid fact, instead of floating among cloud-pictures.
It is as useless to fight against the interpretations of ignorance as to whip the fog.
What novelty is worth that sweet monotony where everything is known, and loved because it is known?