Knightly love is blent with reverence
As heavenly air is blent with heavenly blue.

Book i.

Share with your friends

More from George Eliot

His smile is sweetened by his gravity.

Book i.

Certain winds will make men’s temper bad.

Sad as a wasted passion.

Book i.

Perhaps the wind
Wails so in winter for the summers dead,
And all sad sounds are nature’s funeral cries
For what has been and is not.

A difference of tastes in jokes is a great strain on the affections.

Chapter 15