The vehemence of emotion, stirred by grief and love within me, was claiming mastery, and struggling for full sway; and asserting a right to predominate: to overcome, to live, rise, and reign at last; yes,--and to speak.

I don't call you handsome, sir, though I love you most dearly: far too dearly to flatter you. Don't flatter me.

While I loved, and while I was loved, what an existence I enjoyed!

Too often do reviewers remind us of the mob of Astrologers, Chaldeans, and Soothsayers gathered before 'the writing on the wall' and unable to read the characters or make known the interpretation.

Reserved people often really need the frank discussion of their sentiments and griefs more than the expansive.

Her coming was my hope each day, Her parting was my pain; The chance that did her steps delay Was ice in every vein.

They will both be happy, and I do not grudge them their bliss; but I groan under my own misery: some of my suffering is very acute. Truly, I ought not to have been born: they should have smothered me at first cry.