It’s a funny thing, yearning that is. I don’t know what made me want to revisit of a favorite that I have not read in decades – Middlemarch by George Eliot. I have always found her writing beautiful while brimming with sadness, profound in its simple joys. Happy I am today on finding that I still enjoy George Eliot as much as I did as a teen.
A favorite quote from the book – “His soul was sensitive without being enthusiastic: it was too languid to thrill out of self-consciousness into passionate delight; it went on fluttering in the swampy ground where it was hatched, thinking of its wings and never flying.”