An angel's love is sublime, adorable, divine, beyond the imagination of man--infinitely beyond it! But it is limited to his own august order.

If it fell upon one of your race for only an instant, it would consume its object to ashes.

No, we cannot love men, but we can be harmlessly indifferent to them; we can also like them, sometimes.

I like you and the boys, I like father Peter, and for your sakes I am doing all these things for the villagers." He saw that I was thinking a sarcasm, and he explained his position.
"I have wrought well for the villagers, though it does not look like it on the surface.

Your race never know good fortune from ill.