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"I knew how to point the Bastille cannon at the troops of the King," she replied; "but he was very young then. No matter, I will go and see him; if he is my King, I am his cousin; if he has his crotchets, I have my love and my will. He can't do anything, my dear Lauzun; I love you as once he loved La Valliere, as to-day he loves Montespan; I am not afraid of him.
They need two to care for them. I want to talk about them to someone who understands them and loves them, as I do. I want to feel they are dear to someone else, as well as to myself: that I must work for them for her sake, as well as for my own. I want someone to help me to bring them up." There were tears in his eyes. He brushed them angrily away.
I know I am a silly little goose, but David loves me, and is happy when I am with him, and enjoys me more than anything else in the world. I am going with him. I know God expects me to do my part." And Mrs. Sater went away, after kissing Carol's cheek, which already was paling a little with anxiety.
"Who loves me most in Amsterdam?" The oracle replied that no one loved her as well as he who had given her being: Poor Esther then told me that I had made her miserable, and that she would die of grief if she could not succeed in learning the method of calculation. I gave no answer, and pretended to feel sad at heart.
In reference to the connubial connection of what is evil and false, it is to be observed, that evil loves the false, and desires that it may be a one with itself, and they also unite; in like manner as good loves truth, and desires that it may be a one with itself, and they also unite: from which consideration it is evident, that as the spiritual origin of marriage is the marriage of good and truth, so the spiritual origin of adultery is the connubial connection of what is evil and false.
I knew he loved Martin almost as much as I did, so I paid no heed to the names he was calling him, but I tried to say that I alone had been to blame, and that Martin had done nothing. "Don't tell me he has done nothing," cried Father Dan. "I know what he has done He has told you he loves you, hasn't he?" "No." "He has been colloguing with you, then, and getting you to say things?" "Never."
They were brave, both of them, and accustomed to face death daily, as in such a place and time all men must be; moreover, they had been shriven, and looked to see the gates of Paradise open on their newborn sight. Yet, since no man loves that journey, it was very sweet to know it done with for a while, and that they still might hope to dwell in this world for many years.
"Oh, I say, that isn't fair!" exclaimed Polly, whose spirits were excellent. "You're telling a story, Flower, and Firefly and I have missed it. Maggie loves stories, too; don't you, Mag? Do begin again, please, Flower, please do!"
The stern parent who dooms his daughter to perpetual seclusion because she won't marry the man he likes, doesn't belong to this age." "Who talks about seclusion?" "Do you suppose that she'll give up the man she loves because you don't like him? Is that the way girls live now-a-days?
Men with a stern purpose in life turned wearily from the sickly amours of romantic poets who dreamed that human happiness found its place in the economy of the world. They left it to a rout of melodious idlers to imagine unto themselves a state in which serious importance should attach to the gracious things of sentiment and the loves of youth and maiden. Addenda
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