"...he sat in his loom,
his ear filled with its monotony, his eyes bent down on the slow
growth of sameness in the brownish web, his muscles moving with
such even repetition that their pause seemed almost as much a
constraint as the holding of his breath."
Silas Marner, The Weaver
of Raveloe (1868), page 21
Go forward to find out what
else she wrote about...