“I don't understand it myself, really. It's like the idea of him is better than the him of him”

“It's like the idea of him is better than the him of him.”

“I don't like him," I explained. "He annoys the hell out of me ninety-six percent of the time, and sometimes I'd like nothing better than to strangle him to death. But at the same time I... I want him to be happy. I think about him way more than I should, and I -""You love him.”

“I care nothing in comparison with papa. And I'll never -- never--oh, never while I have my senses, do an act or say a word to vex him. I love him better than myself, Ellen; and I know it by this: I pray every night that I may live after him; because I would rather be miserable than that he should be: that proves I love him better than myself.”

“I knew him, but I don't understand him.”

“I pray every night that I may live after him; because I would rather be miserable than that he should be — that proves I love him better than myself.”