Happiness quite unshared can scarcely be called happiness; it has no taste.
A ruffled mind makes a restless pillow.
What have I to do with millions [of people]? The eighty I know despise me.
Friendship however is a plant which cannot be forced -- true friendship is no gourd spring up in a night and withering in a day.
Dread remorse when you are tempted to err, Miss Eyre; remorse is the poison of life.
Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear.