Your presence is a moral poison that would contaminate the most virtuous

The Lord help us!' he soliloquised in an undertone of peevish displeasure, while relieving me of my horse: looking, meantime, in my face so sourly that I charitably conjectured he must have need of divine aid to digest his dinner, and his pious ejaculation had no reference to my unexpected advent.

how cruel, your veins are full of ice-water and mine are boiling

I despise him for himself, and hate him for the memories he revives!

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

May you not rest, as long as I am living. You said I killed you - haunt me, then.

Good words," I replied. "But deeds must prove it also; and after he is well, remember you don't forget resolutions formed in the hour of fear.