My love is selfish. I cannot breathe without you.
My imagination is a monastery and I am its monk.
We have woven a web, you and I, attached to this world but a separate world of our own invention.
We have oftener than once endeavoured to attach some meaning to that aphorism, vulgarly imputed to Shaftesbury, which however we can find nowhere in his works, that "ridicule is the test of truth."
The days of peace and slumberous calm are fled.
The Public - a thing I cannot help looking upon as an enemy, and which I cannot address without feelings of hostility.