But I tell you, my lord, and I know myself, I am at least that kind of a man--or that kind of a boy, if you prefer it--that I could die in torments rather than that any one should suffer as that scoundrel suffered.

Well, and what have I done?
I see it now.

I have made a fool of myself, as I said in the beginning; and I have gone back, and asked my father's pardon, and placed myself wholly in his hands--and he has sent me to Hermiston," with a wretched smile, "for life, I suppose--and what can I say?
he strikes me as having done quite right, and let me off better than I had deserved." "My poor, dear boy!" observed Glenalmond.

"My poor dear and, if you will allow me to say so, very foolish boy! You are only discovering where you are; to one of your temperament, or of mine, a painful discovery.

The world was not made for us; it was made for ten hundred millions of men, all different from each other and from us; there's no royal road there, we just have to sclamber and tumble.