A man's body is as the shell, or the tablet, of his soul, as he is reserved or ingenuous, overflowing or self-contained.
("Far from the Madding Crowd")
More Quotes from Thomas Hardy:The yard was a little centre of regeneration. Here, with keen edges and smooth curves, were forms in the exact likeness of those he had seen abraded and time-eaten on the walls. These were the ideas in modern prose which the lichened colleges presented in old poetry. Even some of those antiques might have been called prose when they were new. They had done nothing but wait, and had become poetical. How easy to the smallest building; how impossible to most men.
Love, though added emotion, is substracted capacity
Nought would he hear;
Then with wild rainy eyes she obeyed,
She chid when her Love was for clinking off wi' her.
I wish I had never been born--there or anywhere else.
He wished she knew his impressions, but he would as soon as thought of carrying an odour in a net as of attempting to convey the intangibles of his feeling in the coarse meshes of language. So he remained silent.
Where once we danced, where once we sang, Gentlemen, The floors are shrunken, cobwebs hang.
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