For what is love itself, for the one we love best? An enfolding of immeasurable cares which yet are better than any joys outside our love. – George Eliot
The intense happiness of our union is derived in a high degree from the perfect freedom with which we each follow and declare our own impressions. – George Eliot
Of what use, however, is a general certainty that an insect will not walk with his head hindmost, when what you need to know is the play of inward stimulus that sends him hither and thither in a network of possible paths? – George Eliot
Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns. – George Eliot