Never believe those cold-natured, cold-hearted people who tell you that love grows from respect.

It does not.

It comes into existence all at once--suddenly, as a flower is kissed into color by the sun.

When I entered Harden Manor, I was heart-whole, fancy-free, loving no one but Clare; after one upward look in Agatha Thesiger's face, I loved her with a love that was my doom.
Sir John looked at me in amazement.
"I--I did not know you had a daughter, Sir John." "Ah! but I have, and a very precious one, too.

Poor Sir Barnard was very fond of Agatha; he used to call her his sunbeam.