feel


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I've known what it is in my life to repent and feel it's too late.
"Don't ask me, Adam," Arthur said; "I feel sometimes as if I should go mad with thinking of her looks and what she said to me, and then, that I couldn't get a full pardon--that I couldn't save her from that wretched fate of being transported--that I can do nothing for her all those years; and she may die under it, and never know comfort any more."
I know that's what they'll feel, and I can't help feeling a little of it myself.
I used to wish I could do it, in my passion--but that was when I thought you didn't feel enough.
"You will feel very differently after you get over being tired and bewildered," said Anne, who, knowing a certain thing that Leslie did not know, did not feel herself called upon to waste overmuch sympathy.
What I told you at Basset I feel now; I would rather have died than fall into this temptation.
I have caused sorrow already--I know--I feel it; but I have never deliberately consented to it; I have never said, 'They shall suffer, that I may have joy.' It has never been my will to marry you; if you were to win consent from the momentary triumph of my feeling for you, you would not have my whole soul.
"No, I don't sacrifice you--I couldn't sacrifice you," she said, as soon as she could speak again; "but I can't believe in a good for you, that I feel, that we both feel, is a wrong toward others.
I see,--I feel their trouble now; it is as if it were branded on my mind.
It is not the force that ought to rule us,--this that we feel for each other; it would rend me away from all that my past life has made dear and holy to me.
"Maggie," he said, turning round toward her, and speaking in the tones of a man who feels a process of torture beginning, "do you mean to kill me?
He didn't feel so hungry as he thought he should, and so contented himself with a bit of boiled beef, and some strawberries and cream.
"Good sailor!" he replied in answer to a mild young man's envious query; "well, I did feel a little queer ONCE, I confess.
He is an old chum of mine, and feels my pulse, and looks at my tongue, and talks about the weather, all for nothing, when I fancy I'm ill; so I thought I would do him a good turn by going to him now.
At first when I enter a room where the walls are covered with frescos, or with rare pictures, I feel a kind of awe--like a child present at great ceremonies where there are grand robes and processions; I feel myself in the presence of some higher life than my own.