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She seemed to melt against him in her terror, and he caught her in his arms, held her fast there, felt her lashes beat his cheek like netted butterflies.
Edith Wharton
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Edith Wharton
Age: 75 †
Born: 1862
Born: January 24
Died: 1937
Died: August 11
Novelist
Poet
Prosaist
Translator
Writer
New York City
New York
Edith Newbold Jones
Edith Newbold Jones Wharton
Beats
Cheek
Fast
Cheeks
Caught
Butterfly
Arms
Beat
Felt
Held
Netted
Like
Terror
Lashes
Kissing
Butterflies
Seemed
Melt
More quotes by Edith Wharton
If only we'd stop trying to be happy, we could have a pretty good time.
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Everybody who does anything at all does too much.
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Ah, the poverty, the miserable poverty, of any love that lies outside of marriage, of any love that is not a living together, a sharing of all!
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She was very near hating him now yet the sound of his voice, the way the light fell on his thin, dark hair, the way he sat and moved and wore his clothes—she was conscious that even these trivial things were inwoven with her deepest life.
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And he felt himself oppressed by this creation of factitious purity, so cunningly manufactured by a conspiracy of mothers and aunts and grandmothers and long-dead ancestresses, because it was supposed to be what he wanted, what he had a right to, in order that he might exercise his lordly pleasure in smashing it like an image made of snow.
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The real loneliness is living among all these kind people who only ask one to pretend!
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Half the trouble in life is caused by pretending there isn't any.
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It seems stupid to have discovered America only to make it into a copy of another country.
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The desire for symmetry, for balance, for rhythm in form as well as in sound, is one of the most inveterate of human instincts.
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We live in our own souls as in an unmapped region, a few acres of which we have cleared for our habitation while of the nature of those nearest us we know but the boundaries that march with ours.
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Each time you happen to me all over again.
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Almost everybody in the neighborhood had troubles, frankly localized and specified but only the chosen had complications. To have them was in itself a distinction, though it was also, in most cases, a death warrant. People struggled on for years wit
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Life's just a perpetual piecing together of broken bits.
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After all, one knows one's weak points so well, that it's rather bewildering to have the critics overlook them and invent others.
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[B]ut he had lived in a world in which, as he said, no one who loved ideas need hunger mentally.
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Most timidities have such secret compensations and Miss Bart was discerning enough to know that the inner vanity is generally in proportion to the outer self depreciation.
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... how I understand that love of living, of being in this wonderful, astounding world even if one can look at it only through theprison bars of illness and suffering! Plus je vois, the more I am thrilled by the spectacle.
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She was not accustomed to taste the joys of solitude except in company.
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Life is made up of compromises.
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She threw back her head with a laugh that made her chins ripple like little waves.
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