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I would far rather have two or three lilies of the valley gathered for me by a person I like, than the most expensive bouquet that could be bought!

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
Like
Expensive
Flower
Bouquet
Rather
Bouquets
Three
Lilies
Two
Gathered
Persons
Valley
Person
Valleys
Would
Bought

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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 dear! A drunken infidel weaver! said Mr. Hale to himself.
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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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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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Thinking has, many a time, made me sad, darling but doing never did in all my life....My precept is, do something, my sister, do good if you can but at any rate, do something.
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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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Wearily she went to bed, wearily she arose in four or five hours' time. But with the morning came hope, and a brighter view of things.
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I would not trust a mouse to a woman if a man's judgment could be had.
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He came up straight to her father, whose hands he took and wrung without a word - holding them in his for a minute or two, during which time his face, his eyes, his look, told of more sympathy than could be put into words.
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Yet it was very difficult to separate her interpretation, and keep it distinct from his meaning.
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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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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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Margaret was not a ready lover, but where she loved she loved passionately, and with no small degree of jealousy.
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There is nothing like wounded affection for giving poignancy to anger.
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Oh, I can't describe my home. It is home, and I can't put its charm into words
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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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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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It is odd enough to see how the entrance of a person of the opposite sex into an assemblage of either men or women calms down the little discordances and the disturbance of mood.
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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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