A new chapter in a novel is something like a new scene in a play.

Adversity is a good school.

I like the spirit of this great London which I feel around me. Who but a coward would pass his whole life in hamlets; and for ever abandon his faculties to the eating rust of obscurity?

He is not to them what he is to me.

There's no use in weeping, Though we are condemned to part: There's such a thing as keeping, A remembrance in one's heart.

You — you strange — you almost unearthly thing! — I love as my own flesh. You — poor and obscure, and small and plain as you are — I entreat to accept me as a husband.

It would not be wicked to love me." "It would to obey you.