Fine art, poetry, that kind of thing, elevates a nation.
Her own misery filled her heart—there was no room in it for other people's sorrow.
Every woman is supposed to have the same set of motives, or else to be a monster.
To an old memory like mine the present days are but as a little water poured on the deep.
It is well known to all experienced minds that our firmest convictions are often dependent on subtle impressions for which words are quite too coarse a medium.
I am feeling easy now, and you will well understand that after undergoing pain this ease is opening paradise. Invalids must be excused for being eloquent about themselves.