“I’ll tell you,” said she, in the same hurried passionate whisper, “what real love is. It is blind devotion, unquestioning self-humiliation, utter submission, trust and belief against yourself and against the whole world, giving up your whole heart and soul to the smiter – as I did!”
Charles Dickens
In a word, it was impossible for me to separate her, in the past or in the present, from the innermost life of my life.
Charles Dickens
Pause you who read this, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable day.
Charles Dickens
...she would have derived only pain, and no pleasure, from giving me pain; she would far rather have wounded her own breast than mine.
Charles Dickens