conversing

quotes from mary, a fiction by mary wollstonecraft

"as she grew more intimate with ann, her manners were softened, and she acquired a degree of equality in her behavior: yet still her spirits were fluctuating, and her movements rapid. she felt less pain on account of her mother's partiality to her brother, as she hoped now to experience the pleasure of being beloved; but this hope led her into new sorrows, and, as usual, paved the way for disappointment. ann only felt gratitude; her heart was entirely engrossed by one object, and friendship could not serve as a substitute; memory officiously retraced past scenes, and unavailing wishes made time loiter.

mary was often hurt by the involuntary indifference which these consequences produced. when her friend was all the world to her, she found she was not as necessary to her happiness; and her delicate mind could not bear to obtrude her affection, or receive love as an alms, the offspring of pity. very frequently has she ran to her with delight, and not perceiving any thing of the same kind in ann's countenance, she has shrunk back; and, falling from one extreme into the other, instead of a warm greeting that was just slipping from her tongue, her expressions seemed to be dictated by the most chilling insensibility.

she would then imagine that she looked sickly or unhappy, and then all her tenderness would return like a torrent, and bear away all reflection. in this manner was her sensibility called forth, and exercised, by her mother's illness, her friend's misfortunes, and her own unsettled mind."

"her benevolence, indeed, knew no bounds; the distress of others carried her out of herself; and she rested not till she had relieved or comforted them. the warmth of her compassion often made her so diligent, that many things occurred to her, which might have escaped a less interested observer.

in like manner, she entered with such spirit into whatever she read, and the emotions thereby raised were so strong, that it soon became a part of her mind. . .

these propensities gave the colour to her mind, before the passions began to exercise their tyrannic sway, and particularly pointed out those which the soil would have a tendency to nurse.

years after, when wandering through the same scenes, her imagination has strayed back, to trace the first placid sentiments they inspired, and she would earnestly desire to regain the same peaceful tranquility.

many nights she sat up, if i may be allowed the expression, conversing with the Author of Nature, making verses, and singing hymns of her own composing. she considering also, and tried to discern what end her various faculties were destined to pursue; and had a glimpse of a truth, which afterwards more fully unfolded itself.

she thought that only an infinite being could fill the human soul, and that when other objects were followed as a means of happiness, the delusion led to misery, the consequence of disappointment. under the influence of ardent affections, how often has she forgot this conviction, and as often returned to it again, when it struck her with redoubled force. often did she taste unmixed delight; her joys, her ecstacies arose from genius."

"these flights of the imagination point to futurity; i cannot banish them. every cause in nature produces an effect; and am i an exception to the general rule? have i desires implanted in me only to make me miserable? will they never be gratified? shall i never be happy? . . riches and honours await me, and the cold moralist might desire me to sit down and enjoy them - i cannot conquer my feelings, and till i do, what are these baubles to me? you may tell me i follow a fleeting good, an ignis fatuus; but this chase, these struggles prepare me for eternity - when i no longer see through a glass darkly i shall not reason about, but feel in what happiness consists."