Neither birth nor sex forms a limit to genius.

I ask you to pass through life at my side—to be my second self, and best earthly companion.

Jane, my little darling (so I will call you, for so you are), you don't know what you are talking about; you misjudge me again: it is not because she is mad I hate her. If you were mad, do you think I should hate you?

I like this day; I like that sky of steel; I like the sternness and stillness of the world under this frost.

No severe or prolonged bodily illness followed this incident of the red-room: it only gave my nerves a shock, of which I feel the reverberation to this day.

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

Poverty, for me, is synonymous with degradation.