I wish I were a girl again, half-savage and hardy, and free.
I have not broken your heart – you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine.
He shall never know I love him: and that, not because he’s handsome, but because he’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made out of, his and mine are the same.
Kiss me again, but don’t let me see your eyes! I forgive what you have done to me. I love my murderer – but yours! How can I?
Because misery, and degradation, and death, and nothing that God or Satan could inflict would have parted us, you, of your own will did it. I have no broken your heart – you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine. So much the worse for me that I am strong.
I lingered round them, under that benign sky; watched the moths fluttering among the heath and hare-bells; listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass; and wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth.
Existence, after losing her, would be hell.
If he loved with all the powers of his puny being, he couldn’t love as much in eighty years as I could in a day.