If one shouldn't one would be ashamed.

And one must keep thinking; it's a constant effort.

I'm not sure it's not a greater happiness to be powerless." "For weak people I've no doubt it's a greater happiness.

For weak people the effort not to be contemptible must be great." "And how do you know I'm not weak ?" Isabel asked.
"Ah," Ralph answered with a flush that the girl noticed, "if you are I'm awfully sold!" The charm of the Mediterranean coast only deepened for our heroine on acquaintance, for it was the threshold of Italy, the gate of admirations.

Italy, as yet imperfectly seen and felt, stretched before her as a land of promise, a land in which a love of the beautiful might be comforted by endless knowledge.