A woman being never at a loss... the devil always sticks by them.

[Armenian] is a rich language, however, and would amply repay any one the trouble of learning it.

Smiles form the channels of a future tear.

We are all selfish and I no more trust myself than others with a good motive.

My slumbers--if I slumber--are not sleep, But a continuance of enduring thought, Which then I can resist not: in my heart There is a vigil, and these eyes but close To look within; and yet I live, and bear The aspect and the form of breathing men.

I shall soon be six-and-twenty. Is there anything in the future that can possibly console us for not being always twenty-five?

Farewell! if ever fondest prayer For other's weal avail'd on high, Mine will not all be lost in air, But waft thy name beyond the sky.