Maggie was a creature full of eager, passionate longings for all that was beautiful and glad: thirsty for all knowledge: with an ear straining after dreamy music that died away and would not come near to her: with a blind, unconscious yearning for something that would link together the wonderful impressions of this mysterious life and give her soul a sense of home in it.
there was no gleam, no shadow, for the heavens too were one still pale cloud--no sound or motion in anything but the dark river, that flowed and moaned like an unresting sorrow.
--George Eliot, The Mill on the Floss
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