Sublime

She had no sense of proportion, none whatever—and wasn’t that exactly the thing one looked for in a woman?

She thought of him as a source of knowledge rather than experience; a good, though not contemporary mind, a person rather than a man.

She thought of him as a source of knowledge rather than experience; a good, though not contemporary mind, a person rather than a man.

She had a proprietary way of admiring other people’s possessions, as if all good taste were in some measure a tribute to herself.

Nettie and he—a sort of perseverance, a persistent understanding. Where would Nettie have found strength for the unremitting concessions of daily life? She was precipitated from delight to lamentation without logical sequence, as though life were too short; she must cram everything in and perhaps sort it out later.

She had a proprietary way of admiring other people’s possessions, as if all good taste were in some measure a tribute to herself.