Perhaps to know her would be to cure himself of this unexpected and unauthorized passion. - Thomas Hardy

We ought to have lived in mental communion, and no more.

That innate love of melody, which she had inherited from her ballad-singing mother, gave the simplest music a power which could well-nigh drag her heart out of her bosom at times.

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 other possible shape.