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

The night is darkening round me, The wild winds coldly blow; But a tyrant spell has bound me, And I cannot, cannot go.

I'm wearying to escape into that glorious world, and to be always there; not seeing it dimly through tears, and yearning for it through the walls of an aching heart; but really with it, and in it.

If I could I would always work in silence and obscurity, and let my efforts be known by their results.

I wish I were a girl again, half-savage and hardy, and free.

It is astonishing how sociable I feel myself compared with him.

Terror made me cruel; and finding it useless to attempt shaking the creature off, I pulled its wrist on to the broken pane, and rubbed it to and fro till the blood ran down and soaked the bedclothes.