The presence of a noble nature, generous in its wishes, ardent in its charity, changes the lights for us: we begin to see things again in their larger, quieter masses, and to believe that we too can be seen and judged in the wholeness of our character. – George Eliot
Death is the king of this world: Tis his park where he breeds life to feed him. Cries of pain are music for his banquet. – George Eliot