He thinks with me,' said Dorothea to herself, 'or rather, he thinks a whole world of which my thought is but a poor twopenny mirror. And his felings too, his whole experience - what a lake compared with my little pool!'
...for Dorothea heard and retained what he said with the eager interest of a fresh young nature to which every variety in experience is an epoch
Into this soul-hunger as yet all her youthful passion was poured; the union which attracted her was one that would deliver her from her girlish subjection to her own ignorance, and give her the freedom of voluntary submission to a guide who would take her along on the grandest path.
There would be nothing trivial about our lives. It would be like marrying Pascal. I should learn to see the truth by the same light as great men have seen it by.
...aha, but that Mr. Casaubon was no Lancelot. ;)
ReplyDeleteAll in the blue unclouded weather
ReplyDeleteThick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather,
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burn'd like one burning flame together,
As he rode down to Camelot.
As often thro' the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, trailing light,
Moves over still Shalott.
His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;
On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flow'd
His coal-black curls as on he rode,
As he rode down to Camelot.
...instead, he was an old man, sallow, with two white moles with hairs on them, and made scraping noises while eating his soup. ;)
ReplyDeleteYes..and "Because Miss Brooke was hasty in her trust, it is not therefore clear that Mr Casaubon was unworthy of it."
ReplyDeleteBut then, "My master's colorless, olive face, square, massive brow, broad and jetty eyebrows, deep eyes, strong features, firm, grim mouth,--all energy, decision, will,--were not beautiful, according to rule; but they were more than beautiful to me: they were full of an interest, an influence that quite mastered me,--that took my feelings from my own power and fettered them in his."