Don't you suppose I know that you've lain in my arms and pretended I was Ashley Wilkes? Pleasant thing, that. Rather ghostly, in fact. Like having three in a bed where there ought to be just two." Oh, yes, you've been faithful to me because Ashley wouldn't have you. But, hell, I wouldn't have grudged him your body. I know how little bodies mean — especially women's bodies. But I do grudge him your heart and your dear, hard, unscrupulous, stubborn mind. He doesn't want your mind, the fool, and I don't want your body. I can buy women cheap. But I do want your mind and your heart, and I'll never have them, any more than you'll ever have Ashley's mind. And that's why I'm sorry for you.
I hear and behold God in every object. Yet understand God not in the least. Nor do I understand who there can be more wonderful than myself. In the faces of men and women I see God. And in my own face in the glass. I find letters from God dropt in the street. And every one is sign'd by God's name. And I leave them where they are. For I know that
wherever I go others will punctually come forever and ever.