Sir,' I interrupted him, 'you are inexorable for that unfortunate lady; you speak of her with hate --- with vindictive antipathy. It is cruel --- she cannot help being mad.

I like to see flowers growing, but when they are gathered, they cease to please. I look on them as things rootless and perishable; their likeness to life makes me sad. I never offer flowers to those I love; I never wish to receive them from hands dear to me.

I can but die... and I believe in God. Let me try and wait His will in silence.

If we would build on a sure foundation in friendship we must love friends for their sake rather than for our own.

The trouble is not that I am single and likely to stay single, but that I am lonely and likely to stay lonely.

Is there not a terrible hollowness, mockery, want, craving, in that existence which is given away to others, for want of something of your own to bestow it on?

I liked my name pronounced by your lips in a grateful, happy accent.