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There is nothing like wounded affection for giving poignancy to anger.

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
Nothing
Giving
Like
Poignancy
Wounded
Affection
Anger
Father

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It seems strange to think, that what gives us most hope for the future should be called Dolores, said Margaret.
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Your husband this morning! Mine tonight! What do you take him for?' 'A man' smiled Cynthia. 'And therefore, if you won't let me call him changeable, I'll coin a word and call him consolable.
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Blot your misdeeds out (if you are particularly conscientious), by a good deed, as soon as you can just as we did a correct sum at school on the slate, where an incorrect one was only half rubbed out. It was better than wetting our sponge with our tears both less loss of time where tears had to be waited for, and a better effect at last.
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If they came sorrowing, and wanting sympathy in a complicated trouble like the present, then they would be felt as a shadow in all these houses of intimate acquaintances, not friends
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I value my own independence so highly that I can fancy no degradation greater than that of having another man perpetually directing and advising and lecturing me, or even planning too closely in any way about my actions. He might be the wisest of men, or the most powerful - I should equally rebel and resent his interference.
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It is bad to believe you in error. It would be infinitely worse to have known you a hypocrite.
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What's the use of watching? A watched pot never boils.
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Nevertheless, his moustachios are splendid.
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Mrs Forrester ... sat in state, pretending not to know what cakes were sent up, though she knew, and we knew, and she knew that we knew, and we knew that she knew that we knew, she had been busy all the morning making tea-bread and sponge-cakes.
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Sometimes one likes foolish people for their folly, better than wise people for their wisdom.
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I am so tired - so tired of being of being whirled on through all these phases of my life, in which nothing abides by me, no creature, no place it is like the circle in which the victims of earthly passion eddy continually.
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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 take it that 'gentleman' is a term that only describes a person in his relation to others but when we speak of him as 'a man,' we consider him not merely with regard to his fellow-men, but in relation to himself,--to life--to time--to eternity.
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All the earth, though it were full of kind hearts, is but a desolation and desert place to a mother when her only child is absent.
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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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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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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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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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How easy it is to judge rightly after one sees what evil comes from judging wrongly!
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His laws once broken, His justice and the very nature of those laws bring the immutable retribution but if we turn penitently to Him, He enables us to bear our punishment with a meek and docile heart, ‘for His mercy endureth forever.
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