The end of a novel, like the end of children’s dinner-party, must be made up of sweetmeats and sugar-plum - Anthony Trollope

That girls should not marry for money we are all agreed. A lady who can sell herself for a title or an estate, for an income or a set of family diamonds, treats herself as a farmer teats his sheep and oxen — makes hardly more of herself, of her own inner self, in which are comprised a mind and a soul, than the poor wretch of her own sex who earns her bread in the lowest state of degradation.

Her virtues were too numerous to describe, and not sufficiently interesting to deserve description.

There are things that will not have themselves buried and put out of sight, as though they had never been.