Status Updates From Daniel Deronda

But imagine the conflict of feeling that kept him silent. She was bent on confession, and he dreaded hearing her confession. Against his better will, he shrank from the task that was laid on him: he wished, and yet rebuked the wish as cowardly, that she could bury her secrets in her own bosom. He was not a priest. He dreaded the weight of this woman's soul flung upon his own with imploring dependence.

That his wife should have more inclination to another man's society than to his own would not pain him; what he required was that she should be as fully aware as she would have been of a locked hand-cuff, that her inclination was helpless to decide anything in contradiction with his resolve.

[men have been trash since the dawn of time]

'I said, let my body dwell in poverty, and my hands be as the hands of the toiler; but let my soul be as a temple of remembrance where the treasures of knowledge enter and the inner sanctuary is hope.'

No chemical process shows a more wonderful activity than the transforming influence of the thoughts we imagine to be going on in another.

Was it alone the closeness of this fulfillment which made her heart flutter? Or was it some dim forecast, the insistent penetration of suppressed experience, mixing the expectation of a triumph with the dread of a crisis? Hers was one of the natures in which exultation inevitably carries an infusion of dread ready to curdle and declare itself.

[Gwendolen, girly pop -- you've got an anxiety disorder]

There is a great deal of unmapped country within us which would have to be taken into account in an explanation of our gusts and storms.