Those bitter sorrows of childhood!-- when sorrow is all new and strange, when hope has not yet got wings to fly beyond the days and weeks, and the space from summer to summer seems measureless.
Marner was in the right in what he said about a man's turning away a blessing from his door: it falls to somebody else. I wanted to pass for childless once, Nancy – I shall pass for childless now against my wish.
Marner took her into his lap, trembling with an emotion mysterious to himself, at something unknown dawning on his life. Thought and feeling were so confused with him, that if he had tried to give them utterance, he could only have said that the child was come instead of the gold--that the gold had turned into the child.
A hidden soul seemed to be flowing forth from Rosamund's fingers, and so indeed it was, since souls live on in perpetual echoes, and to all fine expression there goes somewhere an originating activity, if it be only that of an interpreter.