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Yes! he knew how she would love. he had not loved her without gaining that instinctive knowledge of what capabilities were in her. her soul would walk in glorious sunlight if any man was worthy, by his power of loving, to win back her love.
-Elizabeth Gaskell
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Yes! He Knew How She Would Love.

Elizabeth Gaskell
Yes! he knew how she would love. he had not loved her without gaining that instinctive knowledge of what capabilities were in her. her soul would walk in glorious sunlight if any man was worthy, by his power of loving, to win back her love.
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Winning Men Soul

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So she had to satisfy herself with the idea of love - loving the loving of things whose existence she didn't care at all about. love itself became the object of her love. she loved herself in love, she loved loving love, as love loves loving, and was able, in that way, to reconcile herself with a world that fell so short of what she would have hoped for. it was not the world that was the great and saving lie, but her willingness to make it beautiful and fair, to live a once-removed life, in a world once-removed from the one in which everyone else seemed to exist.
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She smiled. she knew she was dying. but it did not matter any longer. she had known something which no human words could ever tell and she knew it now. she had been awaiting it and she felt it, as if it had been, as if she had lived it. life had been, if only because she had known it could be, and she felt it now as a hymn without sound, deep under the little whole that dripped red drops into the snow, deeper than that from which the red drops came. a moment or an eternity- did it matter? life, undefeated, existed and could exist. she smiled, her last smile, to so much that had been possible.
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In the nineteenth year and the eleventh month speak your tattered kaddish for all suicides: praise to life though it crumbled in like a tunnel on ones we knew and loved praise to life though its windows blew shut on the breathing-room of ones we knew and loved praise to life though ones we knew and loved loved it badly, too well, and not enough praise to life though it tightened like a knot on the hearts of ones we thought we knew loved us praise to life giving room and reason to ones we knew and loved who felt unpraisable. praise to them, how they loved it, when they could.
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He stepped toward her, and her heart just ached from it. his face was so handsome, and so dear, and so perfectly wonderfully familiar. she knew the slope of his cheeks, and the exact shade of his eys, brownish near the iris, melting into green at the edge. and his mouth-she knew that mouth, the look of it, the feel of it. she knew his smile, and she knew his frown, and she knew- she knew far to much.
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It is by loving, and not by being loved, that one can come nearest the soul of another; yea, that, where two love, it is the loving of each other, that originates and perfects and assures their blessedness. i knew that love gives to him that loveth, power over any soul beloved, even if that soul know him not, bringing him inwardly close to that spirit; a power that cannot be but for good; for in proportion as selfishness intrudes, the love ceases, and the power which springs therefrom dies. yet all love will, one day, meet with its return.
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...fact was she knew more about them than she knew about herself, having never had the map to discover what she was like. could she sing? (was it nice to hear when she did?) was she pretty? was she a good friend? could she have been a loving mother? a faithful wife? have i got a sister and does she favor me? if my mother knew me would she like me? (140)
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