Maddie

“But, hell, I wouldn't have grudged him your body. I know how little bodies mean - especially women's bodies. But I do grudge him your heart and your dear, hard, unscrupulous mind. He doesn't want your mind, the fool, and I don't want your body. I can buy women cheap. But I do want your mind and your heart, and I'll never have them.”
― Margaret Mitchell, Gone with the Wind

“But, Ashley, what are you afraid of?'

'Oh, nameless things. Things which sound very silly when they are
put into words. Mostly of having life suddenly become too real, of
being brought into personal, too personal, contact with some of the
simple facts of life. It isn't that I mind splitting logs here in
the mud, but I do mind what it stands for. I do mind, very much,
the loss of the beauty of the old life I loved. Scarlett, before
the war, life was beautiful. There was a glamor to it, a
perfection and a completeness and a symmetry to it like Grecian
art. Maybe it wasn't so to everyone. I know that now. But to me,
living at Twelve Oaks, there was a real beauty to living. I
belonged in that life. I was a part of it. And now it is gone and
I am out of place in this new life, and I am afraid. Now, I know
that in the old days it was a shadow show I watched. I avoided
everything which was not shadowy, people and situations which were
too real, too vital. I resented their intrusion.”
― Margaret Mitchell, Gone with the Wind

“The green eyes in the carefully sweet face were turbulent, willful, lusty with life, distinctly at variance with her decorous demeanor. Her manners had been imposed upon her ... her eyes were her own.”
― Margaret Mitchell, Gone with the Wind

“Scarlett, I don't know just when it was that the bleak realization came over me that my own private shadow show was over. Perhaps in the first five minutes at Bull Run when I saw the first man I killed drop to the ground. But I knew it was over and I could no longer be a spectator. No, I suddenly found myself on the curtain, an actor, posturing and making futile gestures. My little inner world was gone, invaded by people whose thoughts were not my thoughts, whose actions were as alien as a Hottentot's. They'd tramped through my world with slimy feet and there was no place left where I could take refuge when things became too bad to stand. When I was in prison, I thought: When the war is over, I can go back to the old life and the old dreams and watch the shadow show again. But, Scarlett, there's no going back. And this which is facing all of us now is worse than war and worse than prison—and, to me, worse than death.... So, you see, Scarlett, I'm being punished for being afraid.”
― Margaret Mitchell, Gone with the Wind