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

That cold accretion called the world, so terrible in the mass, is so non formidable, even pitiable, in its units.

That one true heart was left behind! What feeling do we ever find, to equal among human kind , a dog's fidelity!

- the ethereal, fine-nerved, sensitive girl, quite unfitted by temperament and instinct to fulfil the conditions of the matrimonial relation with Phillotson, possibly with scarce any man.

Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.

And at home by the fire, whenever you look up there I shall be— and whenever I look up, there will be you. -Gabriel Oak

Of course poets have morals and manners of their own, and custom is no argument with them.