I think I could die without its being noticed.
Because she has seen for herself. I’ve told her nothing. She’s a person who does see.
His long looks were the thing in the world she could never have enough of. What she felt was that, whatever might happen, she must keep them, must make them most completely her possession.
I’m sure you’ve an excellent spirit; but don’t try to bear more things than you need.
There was a sort of spell in the sense that nobody in the world knew where she was. It was the first time in her life that this had happened; somebody, everybody appeared to have known before, at every instant of it, where she was; so that she was now suddenly able to put it to herself that that hadn’t been a life.
Life might prove difficult – was evidently going to; but meanwhile they had each other, and that was everything.
He had gone in late to see her, but evening hadn’t settled and she was presented to him in that long fresh light of waning April days which affects us often with a sadness sharper than the greyest hours of autumn.
It was as if her doom so floated her on that she couldn’t stop.
She had to take from him again, on this, one of his long looks, and she took it to its deepest, its headiest dregs.
She likes to do everything for herself and has no belief in any one’s power to help her.
I cling to some saving romance in things.
There seemed to Isabel in these days something sacred in Gardencourt; no chapter of the past was more perfectly irrecoverable. When she thought of the months she had spent there the tears rose to her eyes.
The days, whether lapsing or lingering, were a stiff reality; the suppression of anxiety was a thin idea; the taste of life itself was the taste of suspense.
There were complications, there were questions; but they were so much more together than they were anything else.
It’s you who draw me out. I exist in you. Not in others.
Oh, I hoped there would be a lord; it’s just like a novel!
The end of everything was at hand; it seemed to him he could stretch out his arm and touch the goal. But he wanted to die at home – to extend himself in the large quiet room where he had last seen his father lie, and close his eyes upon the summer dawn.
I like places in which things have happened – even if they’re sad things.
There was an element of dull rage in his consciousness of things.
He felt the old bitterness, which he had tried so hard to swallow, rise again in his throat, and he knew there are disappointments that last as long as life.