Dialect Words Are Those Terrible Marks Of

Bathsheba Loved Troy In The Way That Only Self-reliant Women Love When They Abandon Their Self-reliance. When A Strong Woman Recklessly Throws Away Her Strength She Is Worse Than A Weak Woman Who Has Never Any Strength To Throw Away. One Source Of Her Inadequacy Is The Novelty Of The Occasion. She Has Never Had Practice In Making The Best Of Such A Condition. Weakness Is Doubly Weak By Being New.

My Weakness Has Always Been To Prefer The Large Intention Of An Unskilful Artist To The Trivial Intention Of An Accomplished One: In Other Words, I Am More Interested In The High Ideas Of A Feeble Executant Than In The High Execution Of A Feeble Thinker.

It Was That Period In The Vernal Quarter When We May Suppose The Dryads To Be Waking For The Season. The Vegetable World Begins To Move And Swell And The Saps To Rise, Till In The Completest Silence Of Lone Gardens And Trackless Plantations, Where Everything Seems Helpless And Still After The Bond And Slavery Of Frost, There Are Bustlings, Strainings, United Thrusts, And Pulls-all-together, In Comparison With Which The Powerful Tugs Of Cranes And Pulleys In A Noisy City Are But Pigmy Efforts.

I Am The Family Face; Flesh Perishes, I Live On.

When Women Are Secret They Are Secret Indeed; And More Often Then Not They Only Begin To Be Secret With The Advent Of A Second Lover.