I envy your peace of mind, your clean conscience, your unpolluted memory. Little girl, a memory without blot… — Charlotte Brontë
I envy your peace of mind, your clean conscience, your unpolluted memory. Little girl, a memory without blot or contamination must be an exquisite treasure — an inexhaustible source of pure refreshment: is it not?
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"I scorn your idea of love," I could not help saying, as I rose up and stood before him, leaning my back against the rock. "I scorn the counterfeit sentiment you offer; yes, St. John, and I scorn you when you offer it."
Reader, I married him.
I have not much pride under such circumstances: I would always rather be happy than dignified.
