After all, let a man take what pains he may to hush it down, a human soul is an awful, ghostly, unquiet possession for a bad man to have. Who knows the metes and bounds of it? Who knows all its awful perhapses,--those shudderings and tremblings, which it can no more live down than it can outlive its own eternity?
Harriet Beecher StoweCan anybody tell what sorrows are locked up with our best affections, or what pain may be associated with every pleasure?
Harriet Beecher StoweWe hear often of the distress of the negro servants, on the loss of a kind master; and with good reason, for no creature on God's earth is left more utterly unprotected and desolate than the slave in these circumstances.
Harriet Beecher Stowe