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Oh dear! A drunken infidel weaver! said Mr. Hale to himself.

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
Infidel
Hale
Dear
Weaver
Weavers
Drunken

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I say Gibson, we're old friends, and you're a fool if you take anything I say as an offense. Madam your wife and I didn't hit it off the only time I ever saw her. I won't say she was silly, but I think one of us was silly, and it wasn't me!
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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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I do not look on self-indulgent, sensual people as worthy of my hatred I simply look upon them with contempt for their poorness of character.
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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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Look back. Look back at me. Richard Armitage spoke this line in the movie North and South as he watched Miss Hale drive away in a carriage.
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Out of the way! We are in the throes of an exceptional emergency! This is no occassion for sport- there is lace at stake! (Ms. Pole)
Elizabeth Gaskell
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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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I dare say there's many a woman makes as sad a mistake as I have done, and only finds it out too late.
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Waiting is far more difficult than doing.
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Well, He had known what love was-a sharp pang, a fierce experience, in the midst of whose flames he was struggling! but, through that furnace he would fight his way out into the serenity of middle age,-all the richer and more human for having known this great passion.
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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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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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Oh, I can't describe my home. It is home, and I can't put its charm into words
Elizabeth Gaskell
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I know you despise me allow me to say, it is because you don't understand me.
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But Mr. Hale resolved that he would not be disturbed by any such nonsensical idea so he lay awake, determining not to think about it.
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As she realized what might have been, she grew to be thankful for what was.
Elizabeth Gaskell
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Trust a girl of sixteen for knowing well if she is pretty concerning her plainness she may be ignorant.
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I wanted to see the place where Margaret grew to what she is, even at the worst time of all, when I had no hope of ever calling her mine.
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Margaret found that the indifferent, careless conversations of one who, however kind, was not too warm and anxious a sympathizer, did her good.
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He loved her, and would love her and defy her, and this miserable bodily pain.
Elizabeth Gaskell