Her heart longed for some ark into which it could fly and be at rest. Rough or smooth she did not care, so long as it was warm.
The curious double strands in Farfrae's thread of life - the commercial and the romantic - were very distinct at times. Like the colours in a variegated cord those contrasts could be seen intertwisted...
Her suspense was terrible.
If she had not been imprudence incarnate, she would not have acted as she did when she met Henchard by accident a day or two later.
And all this while the subtle-souled girl asking herself why she was born, why sitting in a room, and blinking at the candle; why things around her had taken the shape they wore in preference to every...
Yet her experience had consisted less in a series of pure disappointments than in a series of substitutions. Continually it had happened that what she had desired had not been granted her, and that wh...
The Scotchman seemed hardly the same Farfrae who had danced with her, and walked with her, in a delicate poise between love and friendship - that period in the history of a love when alone it can be s...
