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. . . it seemed to me that where others had prayed before to their God, in their joy or in their agony, was of itself a sacred place.

Elizabeth Gaskell

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Elizabeth Gaskell
Age: 54 †
Born: 1810
Born: September 29
Died: 1865
Died: January 12
Biographer
Novelist
Writer
London
England
Author of Mary Barton
Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell
Elizabeth Cleghorn Stevenson
Mrs. Gaskell
née Stevenson
Prayed
Agony
Seemed
Sacred
Joy
Others
Place

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..still to have loved her without return would have lifted you higher than all those, be they who they may, that have ever known her to love.
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A great matter calls her son with terms like deal, and love.
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I am the mother that bore you, and your sorrow is my agony and if you don't hate her, i do' Then, mother, you make me love her more. She is unjustly treated by you, and I must make the balance even.
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I don't believe there's a man in Milton who knows how to sit still and it is a great art.
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And so she shuddered away from the threat of his enduring love. What did he mean? Had she not the power to daunt him? She would see. It was more daring than became a man to threaten her.
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It had been a royal time of luxury to him, with all its stings and contumelies, compared to the poverty that crept round and clipped the anticipation of the future down to sordid fact, and life without an atmosphere of either hope or fear.
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To be sure a stepmother to a girl is a different thing to a second wife to a man!
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I won't say she was silly, but I think one of us was silly, and it wasn't me.
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How easy it is to judge rightly after one sees what evil comes from judging wrongly!
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I could wish there were a God, if it were only to ask him to bless thee.
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I wish I could love people as you do, Molly!' 'Don't you?' said the other, in surprise. 'No. A good number of people love me, I believe, or at least they think they do but I never seem to care much for any one. I do believe I love you, little Molly, whom I have only known for ten days, better than any one.
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He could not forget the touch of her arms around his neck, impatiently felt as it had been at the time but now the recollection of her clinging defence of him, seemed to thrill him through and through,—to melt away every resolution, all power of self-control, as if it were wax before a fire.
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Waiting is far more difficult than doing.
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He shrank from hearing Margaret's very name mentioned he, while he blamed her--while he was jealous of her--while he renounced her--he loved her sorely, in spite of himself.
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He loved her, and would love her and defy her, and this miserable bodily pain.
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But the trees were gorgeous in their autumnal leafiness - the warm odours of flowers and herb came sweet upon the sense.
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But suppose it was truth double strong, it were no truth to me if I couldna take it in. I daresay there's truth in yon Latin book on your shelves but it's gibberish and no truth to me, unless I know the meaning o' the words.
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People may flatter themselves just as much by thinking that their faults are always present to other people's minds, as if they believe that the world is always contemplating their individual charms and virtues.
Elizabeth Gaskell
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What other people may think of the rightness or wrongness is nothing in comparison to my own deep knowledge, my innate conviction that it was wrong.
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Did I ever say an engagement was an elephant, madam?
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