Fate whirls on the bark, and the rough gale sweeps from the rising tide the lazy calm of thought.
Edward Bulwer-Lytton, 1st Baron LyttonThe heart of a man's like that delicate weed, / Which requires to be trampled on, boldly indeed / Ere it gives forth the fragrance you wish to extract.
Edward Bulwer-Lytton, 1st Baron LyttonOur very wretchedness grows dear to us when suffering for one we love.
Edward Bulwer-Lytton, 1st Baron Lytton