Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves. But if you be afraid of your touchiness, you must ask pardon, mind, when she comes in.

I have lost the faculty of enjoying their destruction, and I am too idle to destroy for nothing.

I love the ground under his feet, and the air over his head, and everything he touches and every word he says. I love all his looks, and all his actions and him entirely and all together.

Shall Earth no more inspire thee, Thou lonely dreamer now?

I have no pity! I have no pity! The more worms writhe, the more I yearn to crush out their entrails! It is a moral teething, and I grind with greater energy, in proportion to the increase of pain.

I have to remind myself to breathe -- almost to remind my heart to beat!

It is for God to punish wicked people; we should learn to forgive.