What is it, Angel?" she said, starting up. "Have they come for me?" "Yes, dearest," he said. "They have come." "It is as it should be," she murmured. "Angel, I am almost glad—yes, glad! This happiness could not have lasted. It was too much. I have had enough; and now I shall not live for you to despise me!" She stood up, shook herself, and went forward, neither of the men having moved. "I am ready," she said quietly.

Nobody had beheld the gravitation of the two into one

If a path to the better there be, it begins with a full look at the worst.

you are absolutely the most ethereal, least sensual woman I ever knew to exist without inhuman sexlessness.

I wish I had never been born--there or anywhere else.

Love is a possible strength in an actual weakness.

A woman would rather visit her own grave than the place where she has been young and beautiful after she is aged and ugly.