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“The most obstinate beliefs that mortals entertain about themselves are such as they have no evidence for beyond a constant, spontaneous pulsing of their self-satisfaction—as it were a hidden seed of madness, a confidence that they can move the world without precise notion of standing-place or lever.”

It is a common sentence that Knowledge is power; but who hath duly Considered or set forth the power of Ignorance? Knowledge slowly builds up what Ignorance in an hour pulls down. Knowledge, through patient and frugal centuries, enlarges discovery and makes record of it; Ignorance, wanting its day's dinner, lights a fire with the record, and gives a flavor to its one roast with the burned souls of many generations.

Do you know how long it is since I first saw you in this dress?

The archery meeting was on the 25th,& this is the 13th, said Gwendolen, laughingly. I am not good at calculating, but I will venture to say that it must be nearly three weeks.

That is a great loss of time.

That your knowing me has caused you? Pray don't be uncomplimentary; I don't like it.

It is because of the gain that I feel the loss.

“It was the rule on these occasions for the ladies and gentlemen to dine apart, so that the dinner might make a time of comparative ease and rest for both. Indeed, the gentlemen had a set of archery stories about the epicurism of the ladies, who had somehow been reported to show a revolting masculine judgment in venison, even asking for the fat—

“Who can deny that bows and arrows are among the prettiest weapons in the world for feminine forms to play with? They prompt attitudes full of grace and power, where that fine concentration of energy seen in all markmanship, is freed from associations of bloodshed. The time-honored British resource of "killing something" is no longer carried on with bow and quiver;

“What name doth Joy most borrow
  When life is fair?
                    "To-morrow."

  What name doth best fit Sorrow
  In young despair?
                    "To-morrow.”

The horses' hoofs made a musical chime, accompanying their young voices.She was laughing at his equipment,for he was the reverse of a dandy,& he was enjoying her laughter;the freshness of the morning mingled with the freshness of their youth;& every sound that came from their clear throats,every glance they gave each other,was the bubbling outflow from a spring of joy.It was all morning to them, within and without.

“Since she was not winning strikingly, the next best thing was to lose strikingly.”

“Thus their meeting had the importance of an adventure. They were at once drawn together by secret fibres. Besides, how can we explain sympathies? Why does a certain peculiarity, a certain imperfection, indifferent or hateful in one person, prove a fascination in another? That which we call the thunderbolt is true as regards all the passions.

Before the month was over they "thou'd" and "thee'd" each other.”

The sight of wedding-party led Bouvard & Pécuchet to talk about women,whom they declared to be frivolous,waspish,obstinate.In spite of this,they were often better than men;but at other times they were worse.In short,it was better to live without them.For his part, Pécuchet was a bachelor
As for me,I'm a widower,said Bouvard,and I have no children
Perhaps you are lucky there.But,in the long run solitude is very sad

“Look here!" he said; "we have both had the same idea—to write our names in our head-coverings!"

"Yes, faith, for they might carry off mine from my desk."

"'Tis the same way with me. I am an employé."

Then they gazed at each other. Bouvard's agreeable visage quite charmed Pécuchet.

“No, my little angel! Don't be afraid!”

“But in the course of that survey her eyes met Deronda's, and instead of averting them as she would have desired to do, she was unpleasantly conscious that they were arrested—how long? The darting sense that he was measuring her and looking down on her as an inferior, that he was of different quality from the human dross around her,

“Was she beautiful or not beautiful? and what was the secret of form or expression which gave the dynamic quality to her glance? Was the good or the evil genius dominant in those beams? Probably the evil; else why was the effect that of unrest rather than of undisturbed charm? Why was the wish to look again felt as coercion and not as a longing in which the whole being consents?”

“Men can do nothing without the make-believe of a beginning. Even science, the strict measurer, is obliged to start with a make-believe unit, and must fix on a point in the stars' unceasing journey when his sidereal clock shall pretend that time is at Nought. His less accurate grandmother Poetry has always been understood to start in the middle;

Toti oamenii vor sa omoare timpul. Si putini isi dau seama ca,de fapt, timpul mesteca tot, inghite tot, mistuie tot, omoara tot.
Uitasera! Niciunul nu stia cum se facuse, dar toti uitasera ca sunt insurati, ca acasa ii asteapta nevestele, copiii.
Se rusinara. Adanc se rusinara de tot ce gandisera si de tot ce rostisera.Ii cuprinse dorul de viata lor de altadata si-i cuprinse si duiosia.Tacura. Mersera tacuti, incet.

Dupa cum stii, nu mai sunt nici tanara, nici puternica. Am fost. Altadata. Pe atunci eram si frumoasa, Him…
Pe Him basa il podidira lacrimile. Era a doua sau a treia oara cand i se intampla in ultimele saptamani. Nu-i raspunse. Vorbele gingase pe care voise sa le rosteasca ii ramasera in gat. Daca le-ar fi rostit, buzele i-ar fi tremurat, glasul i-ar fi tremurat, si s-ar fi dat de gol. Oarba simti.

Him basa se culca. Isi chema nevasta:
-Sina, vino langa mine. De acum inainte vreau sa dormi in fiecare seara langa mine.
Tacuta, Oarba se culca langa omul ei, pe mana lui, langa pieptul lui. Ii auzi inima batand. O asculta. Si i se paru c-a patruns chiar in inima lui si ca e gata sa adoarma chiar in inima lui. Pe buzele-i batrane, subtiri si uscate ii inflori un suras. Si asa adormi.

Gosu: eu fara Lisandra nu pot trai.Eu o iubesc pe Lisandra mai mult decat imi iubesc lumina ochilor.

Lisandra: nu pot trai fara Ariston, bulibasa.Si daca nu pot trai fara Ariston, socot ca e mai potrivit sa mor.

Ariston: o iubesc pe Lisandra mai mult decat imi iubesc carnea si mai mult decat imi iubesc sangele. Fara ea nu pot sa traiesc si nici nu vreau sa mai traiesc.

Vinovata e dragostea! Dragostea e vinovata!!

“The garden was fenced with stones on two sides, but in front there was an open fence, through which the flowers shone with answering gladness, as the four united people came within sight of them.

"O father," said Eppie, "what a pretty home ours is! I think nobody could be happier than we are.”

“why could he not make up his mind to the absence of children from a hearth brightened by such a wife? Why did his mind fly uneasily to that void, as if it were the sole reason why life was not thoroughly joyous to him? I suppose it is the way with all men and women who reach middle age without the clear perception that life never can be thoroughly joyous:...

“Perfect love has a breath of poetry which can exalt the relations of the least-instructed human beings; and this breath of poetry had surrounded Eppie from the time when she had followed the bright gleam that beckoned her to Silas's hearth; so that it is not surprising if, in other things besides her delicate prettiness, she was not quite a common village maiden, but had a touch of refinement and fervour...

“As the child's mind was growing into knowledge, his mind was growing into memory: as her life unfolded, his soul, long stupefied in a cold narrow prison, was unfolding too, and trembling gradually into full consciousness.

“He was puzzled and anxious, for Dolly's word "christened" conveyed no distinct meaning to him. He had only heard of baptism, and had only seen the baptism of grown-up men and women.

"What is it as you mean by "christened"?" he said at last, timidly. "Won't folks be good to her without it?"

“It is seldom that the miserable can help regarding their misery as a wrong inflicted by those who are less miserable. Molly knew that the cause of her dingy rags was not her husband's neglect, but the demon Opium to whom she was enslaved, body and soul, except in the lingering mother's tenderness that refused to give him her hungry child.”

“Do you want me to go?" said Godfrey, looking at Nancy, who was now standing up by Priscilla's order.

"As you like," said Nancy, trying to recover all her former coldness, and looking down carefully at the hem of her gown.

"Then I like to stay," said Godfrey, with a reckless determination to get as much of this joy as he could to-night, and think nothing of the morrow.”

“I should be glad to see a good change in anybody, Mr. Godfrey," she answered, with the slightest discernible difference of tone, "but it 'ud be better if no change was wanted."

"You're very hard-hearted, Nancy," said Godfrey, pettishly. "You might encourage me to be a better fellow. I'm very miserable—but you've no feeling."

“There you go again! You'd come round to the same thing if one talked to you from Saturday night till Saturday morning. It'll be fine fun to see how you'll master your husband and never raise your voice above the singing o' the kettle all the while. I like to see the men mastered!"

"Don't talk so, Priscy," said Nancy, blushing. "You know I don't mean ever to be married.”

This strangely novel situation of opening his trouble to his Raveloe neighbours, of sitting in the warmth of a hearth not his own, and feeling the presence of faces and voices which were his nearest promise of help, had doubtless its influence on Marner, in spite of his passionate preoccupation with his loss.

“Confound you, hold your tongue!" said Godfrey, impetuously. "And take care to keep sober to-morrow, else you'll get pitched on your head coming home, and Wildfire might be the worse for it."

"Make your tender heart easy," said Dunstan, opening the door. "You never knew me see double when I'd got a bargain to make; it 'ud spoil the fun. Besides, whenever I fall, I'm warranted to fall on my legs.”