Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!

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

I sometimes think we must be all mad and that we shall wake to sanity in strait-waistcoats.

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

Good women tell all their lives, and by day and by hour and by minute, such things that angels can read.

I suppose that we women are such cowards that we think a man will save us from fears, and we marry him.

I stood beside Van Helsing, and said;- "Ah, well, poor girl, there is peace for her at last. It is the end!" He turned to me, and said with grave solemnity:- "Not so; alas! not so. It is only the beginning!