“She loves the sun and the sea. She is her happiest there.”

“But she is happiest alone. She is happiest alone.”

“SHE is neither pink nor pale, And she never will be all mine; She learned her hands in a fairy-tale, And her mouth on a valentine. She has more hair than she needs; In the sun ’tis a woe to me! And her voice is a string of colored beads, Or steps leading into the sea. She loves me all that she can, And her ways to my ways resign; But she was not made for any man, And she never will be all mine.”

“The latter part of her stay in Voronezh had been the happiest period in Princess Marya's life. Her love for Rostov was not then a source of torment or agitation to her. That love had by then filled her whole soul and become an inseparable part of herself, and she no longer struggled against it. Of late Princess Marya was convinced- though she never clearly in so many words admitted it to herself- that she loved and was beloved.”

“She's your mother. She loves you. How can you hide from her?""Her love is like the sun. Get sunstroke if you stand in it too long.”

“With the sun rising on the distant sea horizon, she could almost forget the braying of the donkeys.”