O, you have torn my life all to pieces... made me be what I prayed you in pity not to make me be again!
Never in her life – she could swear it from the bottom of her soul – had she ever intended to do wrong; yet these hard judgments had come. Whatever her sins, they were not sins of intention, but of inadvertence, and why should she have been punished so persistently?
Let truth be told - women do as a rule live through such humiliations, and regain their spirits, and again look about them with an interested eye. While there's life there's hope is a connviction not so entirely unknown to the "betrayed" as some amiable theorists would have us believe.
Did it never strike your mind that what every woman says, some women may feel?
A strong woman who recklessly throws away her strength, she is worse than a weak woman who has never had any strength to throw away.
Why it was that upon this beautiful feminine tissue, sensitive as gossamer, and practically blank as snow as yet, there should have been traced such a coarse pattern as it was doomed to receive; why so often the coarse appropriates the finer thus, the wrong man the woman, the wrong women the man, many years of analytical philosophy have failed to explain to our sense of order
While there's life, there's hope.
Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.
Beauty lay not in the thing, but in what the thing symbolized.
Meanwhile, the trees were just as green as before; the birds sang and the sun shone as clearly now as ever. The familiar surroundings had not darkened because of her grief, nor sickened because of her pain. She might have seen that what had bowed her head so profoundly -the thought of the world's concern at her situation- was found on an illusion. She was not an existence, an experience, a passion, a structure of sensations, to anybody but herself.
It was the touch of the imperfect upon the would-be perfect that gave the sweetness, because it was that which gave the humanity
Ladies know what to guard against, because they read novels that tell them of these tricks.
This hobble of being alive is rather serious, don’t you think so?
While there's life, there is hope.
My eyes were dazed by you for a little, and that was all.
Thomas Hardy's Tess of the d'Urbervilles is a novel that I have read over and over and over again. Tess is a pure child who has an inner glow none of the others in the book possess. They reject her because she is different, and they try in every possible manner to destroy her, because they are jealous. It is an extraordinary love story.
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