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Micah Webber is on page 129 of 532

I could not help it; the restlessness was in my nature; it agitated me to pain sometimes. Then my sole relief was to walk along the corridor of the third story, backwards and forwards, safe in the silence and solitude of the spot, and allow my mind’s eye to dwell on whatever bright visions rose before it—and, certainly, they were many and glowing; to let my heart be heaved by the exultant movement . . .

— Jun 04, 2026 06:14AM

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Micah Webber is on page 504 of 532

No harassing restraint, no repressing of glee and vivacity with him; for with him I was at perfect ease, because I knew I suited him; all I said or did seemed either to console or revive him. Delightful consciousness! It brought to life and light my whole nature: in his presence I thoroughly lived; and he lived in mine. Blind as he was, smiles played over his face, joy dawned on his forehead, his lineaments softened.

— Jul 04, 2026 07:45PM

Micah Webber is on page 482 of 532

I was tempted to cease struggling with him - to rush down the torrent of his will into the gulf of his existence, and there lose my own. I was almost as hard beset by him now as I had been once before, in a different way, by another. I was a fool both times. To have yielded then would have been an error of principle; to have yielded now would have been an error of judgment.

— Jul 01, 2026 07:17PM

Micah Webber is on page 453 of 532

Literally, he lived only to aspire—after what was good and great, certainly; but still he would never rest, nor approve of others resting…

I saw he was of the material from which nature hews her heroes—Christian and Pagan—her lawgivers, her statesmen, her conquerors: a steadfast bulwark for great interests to rest upon; but, at the fireside, too often a cold Cumbria’s column, gloomy and out of place.

— Jul 01, 2026 06:16PM

Micah Webber is on page 342 of 532

My eyes were covered and closed: eddying darkness seemed to swim round me, and reflection came in as black and confused a flow. Self-abandoned, relaxed, and effortless, I seemed to have laid me down in the dried-up bed of a great river; I heard a flood loosened in remote mountains, and felt the torrent come: to rise I had no will, to flee I had no strength. I lay faint, longing to be dead.

— Jun 28, 2026 12:27PM

Micah Webber is on page 299 of 532

“Because,” he said, “I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you…it is as if I had string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. …I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapped; and then I’ve a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly.”

— Jun 24, 2026 05:06PM

Micah Webber is on page 281 of 532

And then I strangled a new-born agony—a deformed thing which I could not persuade myself to own and rear—and ran on.

— Jun 19, 2026 08:38PM

Micah Webber is on page 272 of 532

Feeling without judgment is a washy draught indeed; but judgment untempered by feeling is too bitter and husky a morsel for human deglutition.

— Jun 18, 2026 07:10PM

Micah Webber is on page 252 of 532

“Sir,” I answered, “a wanderer’s repose or a sinner’s reformation should never depend on a fellow-creature. Men and women die; philosopher’s falter in wisdom, and Christian’s in goodness: if anyone you know has suffered and erred, let him look higher than his equals for strength to amend and solace to heal.”

— Jun 14, 2026 07:57PM

Micah Webber is on page 233 of 532

“Your brow professes to say ‘I can live alone, if self-respect and circumstances require me so to do. I need not sell my soul to buy bliss. I have an inward treasure born with me, which can keep me alive if all extraneous delights should be withheld, or offered only at a price I cannot afford to give.’“

— Jun 13, 2026 03:50AM

Micah Webber is on page 202 of 532

[H]is attention was riveted on them, … I might gaze without being observed, … my eyes were drawn involuntarily to his face. I looked, and had an acute pleasure in looking—a precious yet poignant pleasure; pure gold, with a steely point of agony: a pleasure like what the thirst-perishing man might feel who knows the well to which he has crept is poisoned, yet stoops and drinks divine draughts nevertheless.

— Jun 08, 2026 07:03PM

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message 1: by Micah (new) - rated it 5 stars

Jun 04, 2026 06:20AM

. . . which, while it swelled it in trouble, expanded it with life; and, best of all, to open my inward ear to a tale that was never ended—a tale my imagination created, and narrated continuously; quickened with all of incident, life, fire, feeling, that I desired and had not in my actual existence.
It is in vain to say human beings ought to be satisfied with tranquility: they must have action; and they will make it if they cannot find it. Millions are condemned to a stiller doom than mine, and millions are in silent revolt against their lot. Nobody knows how many rebellions besides political rebellions ferment in the masses of life which people earth. Women are supposed to be very calm generally: but women feel just as men feel; they need exercise for their faculties, and a field for their efforts as much as their brothers do; they suffer from too rigid a restraint, too absolute a stagnation, precisely as men would suffer; and it is narrow-minded in their more privileged fellow-creatures to say that they ought to confine themselves to making puddings and knitting stockings, to playing on the piano and embroidering bags. It is thoughtless to condemn them, or laugh at them, if they seek to do more or learn more than custom has pronounced necessary for their sex.

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message 2: by Catherine (new) - rated it 4 stars

Jun 05, 2026 05:27PM