Vain are the thousand creeds That move men's hearts, unutterably vain; Worthless as withered weeds, Or idlest froth amid the boundless main.

How strange! I thought, though everybody hated and despised each other, they could not avoid loving me.

There is not room for Death, Nor atom that his might could render void: Thou - Thou art Being and Breath, And what Thou art may never be destroyed.

I am now quite cured of seeking pleasure in society, be it country or town.

I take so little interest in my daily life, that I hardly remember to eat and drink.

What kind of living will it be when you - Oh, God! Would you like to live with your soul in the grave?

He had the hypocrisy to represent a mourner: and previous to following with Hareton, he lifted the unfortunate child on to the table and muttered, with peculiar gusto, 'Now, my bonny lad, you are mine! And we'll see if one tree won't grow as crooked as another, with the same wind to twist it!