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“He had never before seen a woman’s lips and teeth which forced upon his mind with such persistent iteration the old Elizabethan simile of roses filled with snow. Perfect, he, as a lover, might have called them off-hand. But no—they were not perfect. And it was the touch of the imperfect upon the would-be perfect that gave them sweetness, because it was that which gave the humanity“ (148)

— Oct 26, 2025 08:30AM

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path is on page 440 of 535

"You, and those like you, take your fill of pleasure on earth by making the life of such as me bitter and black with sorrow; and then it it a fine thing, when you have had enough of that, to think of securing your pleasure in heaven by becoming converted!" (403)

— Oct 31, 2025 07:21AM