“Her face was fair and pretty, with eyes like two bits of night sky, each with a star dissolved in the blue.”

“It opened a little way, and a face came into the opening. It was Lona's. It's eyes were closed, but the face itself was upon me, and seemed to see me. It was as white as Eve's, white as Mara's, but did not shine like their faces. She spoke, and her voice was like a sleepy night-wind in the grass."Are you coming, king?" it said. "I cannot rest until you are with me, gliding down the river to the great sea, and the beautiful dream-land. The sleepiness is full of lovely things: come and see them.”

“But in truth there was more expression in the flower than was yet in the face. The flower expressed what God was thinking of when He made it; the face, what the girl was thinking of her self. When she ceased thinking of herself, then, like the flower, she would show what God was thinking of when he made her.”

“Mary MagdaleneWith wandering eyes and aimless zeal, She hither, thither, goes;Her speech, her motions, all reveal A mind without repose.She climbs the hills, she haunts the sea, By madness tortured, driven;One hour's forgetfulness would be A gift from very heaven!She slumbers into new distress; The night is worse than day:Exulting in her helplessness; Hell's dogs yet louder bay.The demons blast her to and fro; She has not quiet place,Enough a woman still, to know A haunting dim disgrace.A human touch! a pang of death! And in a low delightThou liest, waiting for new breath, For morning out of night.Thou risest up: the earth is fair, The wind is cool; thou art free!Is it a dream of hell's despair Dissolves in ecstasy?That man did touch thee! Eyes divine Make sunrise in thy soul;Thou seest love in order shine:- His health hath made thee whole!Thou, sharing in the awful doom, Didst help thy Lord to die;Then, weeping o'er his empty tomb, Didst hear him Mary cry.He stands in haste; he cannot stop; Home to his God he fares:'Go tell my brothers I go up To my Father, mine and theirs.'Run, Mary! lift thy heavenly voice; Cry, cry, and heed not how; Make all the new-risen world rejoice- Its first apostle thou!What if old tales of thee have lied, Or truth have told, thou artAll-safe with Him, whate'er betide Dwell'st with Him in God's heart!”

“She would wonder what had hurt her when she found her face wet with tears, and then would wonder how she could have been hurt without knowing it.”

“The world...is full of resurrections... Every night that folds us up in darkness is a death; and those of you that have been out early, and have seen the first of the dawn, will know it - the day rises out of the night like a being that has burst its tomb and escaped into life.”

“We are all very anxious to be understood, and it is very hard not to be. But there is one thing much more necessary.'What is that, grandmother?'To understand other people.'Yes, grandmother. I must be fair - for if I'm not fair to other people, I'm not worth being understood myself. I see.”