1 I always loved you alone, but I was carried away.
2 Levin loved his brother, but being with him was always a torture.
3 She loved Anna, but she enjoyed seeing that she too had her weaknesses.
4 "You have never loved," Vronsky said softly, looking straight before him and thinking of Anna.
5 From the moment that Anna loved Vronsky, he had regarded his own right over her as the one thing unassailable.
6 He wanted to weep over his dying, dearly loved brother, and he had to listen and keep on talking of how he meant to live.
7 Levin only had time to tell him he was happy, and that he loved him, and would never, never forget what he had done for him.
8 If any did so, he was ready to force all who might speak to be silent and to respect the non-existent honor of the woman he loved.
9 He had seen all of her in her illness, had come to know her very soul, and it seemed to him that he had never loved her till then.
10 She remembered the love for her of the man she loved, and once more all was gladness in her soul, and she lay on the pillow, smiling with happiness.
11 And simply from the look in her eyes, that grew unconsciously brighter, Levin knew that she loved that man, knew it as surely as if she had told him so in words.
12 In their conversation everything had been said; it had been said that she loved him, and that she would tell her father and mother that he would come tomorrow morning.
13 No one but she herself understood her position; no one knew that she had just refused the man whom perhaps she loved, and refused him because she had put her faith in another.
14 And death, which was here in this loved brother, groaning half asleep and from habit calling without distinction on God and the devil, was not so remote as it had hitherto seemed to him.
15 She was an honorable woman who had bestowed her love upon him, and he loved her, and therefore she was in his eyes a woman who had a right to the same, or even more, respect than a lawful wife.
16 He had heard that women often did care for ugly and ordinary men, but he did not believe it, for he judged by himself, and he could not himself have loved any but beautiful, mysterious, and exceptional women.
17 An ugly, good-natured man, as he considered himself, might, he supposed, be liked as a friend; but to be loved with such a love as that with which he loved Kitty, one would need to be a handsome and, still more, a distinguished man.
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