Wisdom can boast no higher attainment than happiness.

If the weak hand, that has recorded this tale, has, by its scenes, beguiled the mourner of one hour of sorrow, or, by its moral, taught him to sustain it - the effort, however humble, has not been vain, nor is the writer unrewarded.

There is no accounting for tastes.

It is dismal coming home, when there is nobody to welcome one!

When the mind has once begun to yield to the weakness of superstition, trifles impress it with the force of conviction.

The world ridicules a passion which it seldom feels; its scenes, and its interests, distract the mind, deprave the taste, corrupt the heart, and love cannot exist in a heart that has lost the meek dignity of innocence.

I tasted too what was called the sweet of revenge - but it was transient, it expired even with the object, that provoked it.