Bless thy simplicity, Tess
Done because we are too many.
Of course poets have morals and manners of their own, and custom is no argument with them.
My wicked heart will ramble on in spite of myself. (Arabella)
Of love it may be said, the less earthly the less demonstrative. In its absolutely indestructible form it reaches a profundity in which all exhibition of itself is painful.
She was not an existence, an experience, a passion, a structure of sensations, to anybody but herself. To all humankind besides Tess was only a passing thought. Even to friends she was no more than a frequently passing thought.