Every Mile Was Redolent Of Associations, Which

She Lay Down And Never Stirred. To Move Hand Or Foot, Or Even So Much As One Finger, Would Have Been An Exertion Beyond The Powers Of Either Volition Or Motion. She Was So Tired, So Stunned, That She Thought She Never Slept At All; Her Feverish Thoughts Passed And Repassed The Boundary Between Sleeping And Waking, And Kept Their Own Miserable Identity.

Neither Loss Of Father, Nor Loss Of Mother, Dear As She Was To Mr Thornton, Could Have Poisoned The Remembrance Of The Weeks, The Days, The Hours, When A Walk Of Two Miles, Every Step Of Which Was Pleasant, As It Brought Him Nearer And Nearer To Her, Took Him To Her Sweet Presence - Every Step Of Which Was Rich, As Each Recurring Moment That Bore Him Away From Her Made Him Recal Some Fresh Grace In Her Demeanour, Or Pleasant Pungency In Her Character.

But Suppose It Was Truth Double Strong, It Were No Truth To Me If I Couldna Take It In. I Daresay There's Truth In Yon Latin Book On Your Shelves; But It's Gibberish And No Truth To Me, Unless I Know The Meaning O' The Words.

He Could Not - Say Rather, He Would Not - Deny Himself The Chance Of The Pleasure Of Seeing Margaret. He Had No End In This But The Present Gratification.

It Is The First Changes Among Familiar Things That Make Such A Mystery Of Time To The Young; Afterwards We Lose The Sense Of The Mysterious. I Take Changes In All I See As A Matter Of Course. The Instability Of All Human Things Is Familiar To Me, To You It Is New And Oppressive." (mr. Bell)