This woman was a goddess to the end. For her no love could be degrading: she stood outside all degradation. This episode, which she thought so sordid, and which was so tragic for him, remained supremely beautiful. To such a height was he lifted, that without regret he could now have told her that he was her worshipper too. But what was the use of telling her? For all the wonderful things had happened.
For a wonderful physical tie binds the parents to the children; and––by some sad, strange irony–– it does not bind us children to our parents. For if it did, if we could answer their love not with gratitude but with equal love, life would lose mucho of its pathos and much of its squalor, and we might be wonderfully happy.
A new little brother is a valuable sentimental asset to a school-girl and her school was then passing through an acute phase of baby-worship. [...] That one might sing the unwritten song of Miriam, blessed above all school-girls, who was allowed to hide her baby brother in a squashy place, where none but herself could find him!
Even though I list E.M. Forster as one of my favorite authors, I've only read A Room With a View, but I'll promptly correct that situation by reading this book, his debut novel. I'm a little disappointed, though, because this isn't the cover of the copy I own.