I felt a weight on my chest; a sense of hot indignation which settled down into inconceivable melancholy. - Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

Oh, the comfort — the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person — having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away.

Forgotten? No, we never do forget:
We let the years go; wash them clean with tears,
Leave them to bleach out in the open day,
Or lock them careful by, like dead friends' clothes,
Till we shall dare unfold them without pain, — But we forget not, never can forget.

I watched too, with that sort of lonely delight — the one shadow upon it being that it is so lonely — with which all one's life one is accustomed to watch beautiful and vanishing things.