I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow.
Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
A sensible man ought to find sufficient company in himself.
He might as well plant an oak in a flowerpot, and expect it to thrive, as imagine he can restore her to vigour in the soil of his shallow cares!
I take so little interest in my daily life, that I hardly remember to eat and drink.
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.