Men and women, alone, riding the hobby-horses of anxiety or love, burned their wavering tapers of dream and thought into the lonely hours. - John Galsworthy

FROME. What was the nature of your relations with him? RUTH. We were friends. THE JUDGE. Friends? RUTH. [Simply] Lovers, sir. THE JUDGE. [Sharply] In what sense do you use that word? RUTH. We love each other.

Only love makes fruitful the soul. The sense of form that both had in such high degree prevented much demonstration; but to be with him, do things for him, to admire, and credit him with perfection; and, since she could not exactly wear the same clothes or speak in the same clipped, quiet, decisive voice, to dislike the clothes and voices of other men — all this was precious to her beyond everything.

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