My life has not been the best possible. The slave of impulse, I have rushed forward to my own destruction.

It is said there is no happiness, and no love to be compared to that which is felt for the first time. Most persons erroneously think so; but love like other arts requires experience, and terror and ignorance, on its first approach, prevent our feeling it as strongly as at a later period.

Nature formed me fierce.

the sins of children rise up in judgment against their parents.

real misery delights not in reproaches and complaints. It is like charity and love - silent, long suffering and mild.

a weak and irresolute disposition is often more destructive than determined vice.

There is nothing so difficult to describe as happiness. Whether some feeling of envy enters into the mind upon hearing of it, or whether it is so calm, so unassuming, so little ostentatious in itself, that words give an imperfect idea of it, I know not. It is easier to enjoy it, than define it. ... and is oftener found at home, when home has not been embittered by dissensions, suspicions and guilt, than any where else upon earth. Yes, it is in home and in those who watch there for us.