If they had said that the sun or the moon had gone out of the heavens, it could not have struck me with the idea of a more awful and dreary blank in creation than the words: Byron is dead!

Young children are such nasty little beasts!

Never does one feel oneself so utterly helpless as in trying to speak comfort for great bereavement.

cracked things often hold out as long as whole things; one takes so much better care of them!

I am not at all the sort of person you and I took me for.

If they had said that the sun or the moon had gone out of the heavens, it could not have struck me with the idea of a more awful and dreary blank in creation than the words: Byron is dead!

In spite of the honestest efforts to annihilate my I-ity, or merge it in what the world doubtless considers my better half, I still find myself a self-subsisting and alas! self-seeking me.