I cannot love thee; thou 'rt worse than thy brother. Go, say thy prayers, child, and ask God's pardon. I doubt thy mother and I must rue that we ever reared thee!

Hereafter she is only my sister in name; not because I disown her, but because she has disowned me.

He'll love and hate equally under cover, and esteem it a species of impertinence to loved or hated again.

By this curious turn of disposition I have gained the reputation of deliberate heartlessness; how undeserved, I alone can appreciate.

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

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.

Any relic of the dead is precious, if they were valued living.