We watched it from the garden, where, Sunday after Sunday, in fine weather, we used to lounge, and talk over all manner of things in heaven and in earth, chiefly ending with the former, as on Sunday nights, with stars over our head, was natural and fit we should do.
"Phineas," said John, sitting on the grass with his hands upon his knees, and the one star, I think it was Jupiter, shining down into his eyes, deepening them into that peculiar look, worth any so-called "handsome eyes;"-- "Phineas, I wonder how soon we shall have to rise up from this quiet, easy life, and fight our battles in the world?
Also, I wonder if we are ready for it ?" "I think you are." "I don't know.

I'm not clear how far I could resist doing anything wrong, if it were pleasant.

So many wrong things are pleasant--just now, instead of rising to-morrow, and going into the little dark counting-house, and scratching paper from eight till six, shouldn't I like to break away!--dash out into the world, take to all sorts of wild freaks, do all sorts of grand things, and perhaps never come back to the tanning any more." "Never any more ?" "No! no! I spoke hastily.

I did not mean I ever should do such a wrong thing; but merely that I sometimes feel the wish to do it.

I can't help it; it's my Apollyon that I have to fight with--everybody keeps a private Apollyon, I fancy.