My words in her mind: cold polished stones sinking through a quagmire.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
When lovely woman stoops to folly, and finds too late that men betray, what charm can soothe her melancholy, what art can wash her guilt away?
These words dropped into my childish mind as if you should accidentally drop a ring into a deep well. I did not think of them much at the time, but there came a day in my life when the ring was fished up out of the well, good as new.
Stone walls confine a tinker; cold iron binds a witch; but a musician's music can never be fettered, for it lives first in her heart and mind.
Nothing in the last few years has dazzled me more than Hilary Mantel's 'Wolf Hall,' which blew the top of my head straight off. I've read it three times, and I'm still trying to figure out how she put that magnificent thing together.
The proud, the cold untroubled heart of stone, that never mused on sorrow but its own.
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will make me go in a corner and cry by myself for hours.
I think she said I should seek help. Something like that, but it was in much cruder terms. And that I had a fascination with things coming out of people's mouths.
It is extraordinary to see the sea; what a spectacle! She is so unfettered that one wonders whether it is possible that she again become calm.
Virtue she finds too painful an endeavour, content to dwell in decencies for ever.
Become dust - and they will throw thee in the air; Become stone - and they will throw thee on glass.