“I swear, Papa, I'd give my virtue if it would get my novels published,' she exclaimed in vexation. 'I'm certain we've tried everything else.”

“I'm going to write a novel and get it published. I'm going to do it because writing a novel is worthwhile and because I have the talent to do it.I'm going to do it because I have something important to say to the world.I refuse to let anything get in my way.”

“I wish to try my hand at a novel," he said. "Just scribbling, I assure you, but it strikes me as such a noble art, requiring none of the monetary resources of opera or drama, nor the erudition of poetry. Perchance a publisher could be found. I'd be satisfied by the printing of even a score of copies, if only to hold the bound work in my hands. It gives a unique satisfaction, I assume, the writing of a novel.”

“Yes,' said Catherine, stroking his long soft hair, 'if I could only get papa's consent, I'd spend half my time with you - Pretty Linton! I wish you were my brother.''And then you would like me as well as your father?' observed he more cheerfully. 'But papa says you would love me better than him, and all the world, if you were my wife-so I'd rather you were that!''No! I should never love anybody better than papa,' she returned gravely. 'And people hate their wives, sometimes; but not their sisters and brothers, and if you were the latter, you would live with us, and papa would be as fond of you, as he is of me.”

“I'm not trying to be weird, I swear! But if I'd had a choice between "weird" and "ordinary", I'd still have chosen weird anyway.”

“I'd never forgotten him, despite spending half my life trying to forget him. I'd given him everything: my love, my body, my pride, & parts of my heart & mind that I could never get back.”