"How can I pray for you," she said, "when I am forbidden to believe that the great Power who moves the world… — Thomas Hardy

Patience, that blending of moral courage with physical timidity.

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 the sweetness, because it was that which gave the humanity.

So the two forces were at work here as everywhere, the inherent will to enjoy, and the circumstantial will against enjoyment.