She Was But A Transient Impression, Half

That Mercy Towards One Set Of Creatures Was Cruelty Towards Another Sickened His Sense Of Harmony. As You Got Older, And Felt Yourself To Be At The Center Of Your Time, And Not At A Point In Its Circumference, As You Had Felt When You Were Little, You Were Seized With A Sort Of Shuddering, He Perceived. All Around You There Seemed To Be Something Glaring, Garish, Rattling, And The Noises And Glares Hit Upon The Little Cell Called Your Life, And Shook It, And Warped It.

A Novel Is An Impression, Not An Argument; And There The Matter Must Rest.

It Appears That Ordinary Men Take Wives Because Possession Is Not Possible Without Marriage, And That Ordinary Women Accept Husbands Because Marriage Is Not Possible Without Possession

Don't Think Of What's Past!" Said She. "i Am Not Going To Think Outside Of Now. Why Should We! Who Knows What Tomorrow Has In Store?

This Good Fellowship - Camaraderie - Usually Occurring Through The Similarity Of Pursuits Is Unfortunately Seldom Super-added To Love Between The Sexes, Because Men And Women Associate, Not In Their Labors But In Their Pleasures Merely. Where, However, Happy Circumstances Permit Its Development, The Compounded Feeling Proves Itself To Be The Only Love Which Is Strong As Death - That Love Which Many Waters Cannot Quench, Nor The Floods Drown, Besides Which The Passion Usually Called By The Name Is As Evanescent As Steam.