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Jane, be still; don't struggle so like a wild, frantic bird, that is rending its own plumage in its desperation. I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being, with an independent will; which I now exert to leave you.
It is in vain to say human beings ought to be satisfied with tranquility: they must have action; and they will make it if they cannot find it.
Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear.
I know what it is to live entirely for and with what I love best on earth. I hold myself supremely blest -- blest beyond what language can express; because I am my husband's life as fully as he is mine.
There is no happiness like that of being loved by your fellow creatures, and feeling that your presence is an addition to their comfort.
I would always rather be happy than dignified.
I try to avoid looking forward or backward, and try to keep looking upward.
Life is so constructed, that the event does not, cannot, will not, match the expectation.
I believe in some blending of hope and sunshine sweetening the worst lots. I believe that this life is not all; neither the beginning nor the end. I believe while I tremble; I trust while I weep.
I knew, you would do me good, in some way, at some time;- I saw it in your eyes when I first beheld you: their expression and smile did not- (again he stopped)- did not (he proceeded hastily) strike delight to my very inmost heart so for nothing.
Prejudices, it is well known, are most difficult to eradicate from the heart whose soil has never been loosened or fertilised by education: they grow there, firm as weeds among stones.
I have little left in myself -- I must have you. The world may laugh -- may call me absurd, selfish -- but it does not signify. My very soul demands you: it will be satisfied, or it will take deadly vengeance on its frame.
But life is a battle: may we all be enabled to fight it well!
Even for me life had its gleams of sunshine.
All my heart is yours, sir: it belongs to you; and with you it would remain, were fate to exile the rest of me from your presence forever.
Happiness quite unshared can scarcely be called happiness; it has no taste.
Conventionality is not morality. Self-righteousness is not religion. To attack the first is not to assail the last.
And it is you, spirit--with will and energy, and virtue and purity--that I want, not alone with your brittle frame.
