I can't love it - what is there to love? It can't love me - or you either; it can't understand a single word you say to it, or feel one spark of gratitude for all your kindness. Wait till it can show some little affection for me, and then I'll see about loving it. At present it is nothing more than a little selfish, senseless sensualist, and if you see anything adorable in it, it's all very well - I only wonder how you can.

Arthur to Helen (Ch. XXVIII : Parental Feelings) - The Tenant of Wildfell Hall (1848)