He said, Were he only like his sister—what a difference that would make! For there never was such a sweet and gentle lady! I hear her footsteps, as she goes about the world. I hear the swish-swish-swish of her silken gown and the jingle-jangle of the silver chain about her neck. Her smile is full of comfort and her eyes are kind and happy! How I long to see her! Who, sir? asked Paramore, puzzled. Why, his sister, John. His sister.
Time and I have quarrelled. All hours are midnight now. I had a clock and a watch, but I destroyed them both. I could not bear the way they mocked me.
They were all enamoured with the idea of progress and believed that whatever was new must be superior to what was old. As if merit was a function of chronology!