War makes rattling good history.

It was terribly beautiful to Tess today, for since her eyes last fell upon it she had learnt that the serpent hisses where the sweet birds sing.

Indifference to fate which, though it often makes a villain of a man, is the basis of his sublimity when it does not.

War makes rattling good history.

I am the family face; flesh perishes, I live on.

...she moved about in a mental cloud of many-coloured idealities, which eclipsed all sinister contingencies by its brightness.

...he seemed to approach the grave as an hyperbolic curve approaches a line, less directly as he got nearer, till it was doubtful if he would ever reach it at all.