How we cite our quotes: (Book.Chapter.Paragraph)
Quote #7
'This King had a daughter, who was the wisest and most beautiful Princess that ever was seen. When she was a child she understood all her lessons before her masters taught them to her; and when she was grownup, she was the wonder of the world. Now, near the Palace where this Princess lived, there was a cottage in which there was a poor little tiny woman, who lived all alone by herself.'
'An old woman,' said Maggy, with an unctuous smack of her lips.
'No, not an old woman. Quite a young one. [...] The Princess passed the cottage nearly every day, and whenever she went by in her beautiful carriage, she saw the poor tiny woman spinning at her wheel, and she looked at the tiny woman, and the tiny woman looked at her. [...] The Princess was such a wonderful Princess that she had the power of knowing secrets, and she said to the tiny woman, Why do you keep it there? This showed her directly that the Princess knew why she lived all alone by herself spinning at her wheel, and she kneeled down at the Princess's feet, and asked her never to betray her. So the Princess said, I never will betray you. Let me see it. So the tiny woman closed the shutter of the cottage window and fastened the door, and trembling from head to foot for fear that any one should suspect her, opened a very secret place and showed the Princess [...] the shadow of Some one who had gone by long before: of Some one who had gone on far away quite out of reach, never, never to come back. It was bright to look at; and when the tiny woman showed it to the Princess, she was proud of it with all her heart, as a great, great treasure. [...] So she resolved to watch the tiny woman, and see what came of it. Everyday she drove in her beautiful carriage by the cottage-door, and there she saw the tiny woman always alone by herself spinning at her wheel, and she looked at the tiny woman, and the tiny woman looked at her. At last one day the wheel was still, and the tiny woman was not to be seen. When the Princess made inquiries why the wheel had stopped, and where the tiny woman was, she was informed that the wheel had stopped because there was nobody to turn it, the tiny woman being dead. [...] she went in at once to search for the treasured shadow. But there was no sign of it to be found anywhere; and then she knew that the tiny woman had told her the truth, and that it would never give anybody any trouble, and that it had sunk quietly into her own grave, and that she and it were at rest together.' (1.24.109-130)
Wow, that's some amazing story. So, first things first – the Princess is, amusingly enough, Flora Finching, who has made Amy think that she and Arthur were going to get back together. The little woman is obviously Amy. And the shadow? This is a whole new shadow – the shadow of Amy's love for Arthur, whom she fears will never love her back. Compare the image of Amy buried forever with her love shadow to all the epitaphs that John Chivery composes for himself as he imagines himself dying of unrequited love. It's actually kind of a great teenager-y melodramatic detail.
Quote #8
He weightily communicated his opinion to their host, that his life must be a very dreary life here in the winter.
The host allowed to Monsieur that it was a little monotonous. The air was difficult to breathe for a length of time consecutively. The cold was very severe. One needed youth and strength to bear it. However, having them and the blessing of Heaven--
Yes, that was very good. 'But the confinement,' said the grey-haired gentleman. [...] 'But the space,' urged the grey-haired gentleman. 'So small. So--ha--very limited.' [...] Monsieur still urged, on the other hand, that the space was so--ha--hum--so very contracted. More than that, it was always the same, always the same.
With a deprecating smile, the host gently raised and gently lowered his shoulders. That was true, he remarked, but permit him to say that almost all objects had their various points of view. Monsieur and he did not see this poor life of his from the same point of view. Monsieur was not used to confinement.
'I--ha--yes, very true,' said the grey-haired gentleman. He seemed to receive quite a shock from the force of the argument. [...] 'It is true,' said Monsieur. 'We will--ha--not pursue the subject. (1.1.80-92)
This is a great moment, as Dorrit struggles to contain his deep, immediate, and involuntary empathy for the wintering monks. His new gentleman persona has supposedly never seen a rough day in his life.
Quote #9
'I would not,' said Mrs. General, 'be understood to say, observe, that there is nothing to improve in Fanny. But there is material there--perhaps, indeed, a little too much.'
'Will you be kind enough, madam,' said Mr. Dorrit, 'to be--ha--more explicit? I do not quite understand my elder daughter's having--hum--too much material. What material?'
'Fanny,' returned Mrs. General, 'at present forms too many opinions.
Perfect breeding forms none, and is never demonstrative.' (2.5.13-16)
Apparently, according to Mrs. General, good breeding is the process of containing the "material" of personality, opinions, thoughts, and individuality. She tries as hard as possible to place the brain in a small, closed, rigid prison of correct things to say, do, and feel, and to push everything else aside.