There is a reason why all things are as they are.

He may not enter anywhere at the first, unless there be some one of the household who bid him to come, though afterwards he can come as he please.

She was young and very beautiful, but pale, like the grey pallor of death.

There is a method in his madness, and the rudimentary idea in my mind is growing. It will be a whole idea soon, and then, oh, unconscious cerebration.

A house cannot be made habitable in a day; and, after all, how few days go to make up a century.

I suppose a cry does us all good at times-clears the air as other rain does.

Take me away from all this Death.