Jealousy is never satisfied with anything short of an omniscience that would detect the subtlest fold of the heart.
It is a wonderful subduer-this need of love, this hunger of the heart.
Mysterious haunts of echoes old and far, The voice divine of human loyalty.
History, we know, is apt to repeat itself.
Imagination is a licensed trespasser: it has no fear of dogs, but may climb over walls and peep in at windows with impunity.
To superficial observers his chin had too vanishing an aspect, looking as if it were being gradually reabsorbed. And it did indeed cause him some difficulty about the fit of his satin stocks, for which chins were at that time useful.