Jealousy is never satisfied with anything short of an omniscience that would detect the subtlest fold of the heart.
The days were longer then (for time, like money, is measured by our needs), when summer afternoons were spacious, and the clock ticked slowly in the winter evenings.
But at present this caution against a too hasty judgment interests me more in relation to Mr. Casaubon than to his young cousin.
They had gone forth together into their life of sorrow, and they would never more see the sunshine undimmed by remembered cares. They had entered the thorny wilderness, and the golden gates of their childhood had forever closed behind them.
I want that sort of thing — not ideas, you know, but a way of putting them.
One morning, some weeks after her arrival at Lowick, Dorothea - but why always Dorothea? Was her point of view the only possible one with regard to this marriage?