Sink every impulse like a bolt. Secure The bastion of sensation. Do not waver into language. Do not waver in it.

Done because we are too many.

It was terribly beautiful to Tess today$$$ for since her eyes last fell upon it she had learnt that the serpent hisses where the sweet birds sing.

The perfect woman$$$ you see [is] a working-woman; not an idler; not a fine lady; but one who [uses] her hands and her head and her heart for the good of others.

An ancient writer says of Homer: that he touched nothing without somehow honoring and glorifying it.

You have never loved me as I love you--never--never! Yours is not a passionate heart--your heart does not burn in a flame! You are$$$ upon the whole$$$ a sort of fay$$$ or sprite-- not a woman!

Our successes and failures in life can be traced to how well or how badly we deal with the inevitable conflicts that confront us in society.

You cannot repress anger or love$$$ or avoid feeling them$$$ and you should not try.

Sadness of any sort is also seductive$$$ particularly if it seems deep-rooted$$$ even spiritual$$$ rather than needy or pathetic; it makes people come to you.

There is too little mystery in the world; too many people say exactly what they feel or want.