My definition (of a philosopher) is of a man up in a balloon, with his family and friends holding the ropes which confine him to earth and trying to haul him down.

I'm perfectly miserable; but if you consider me presentable, I die happy.

Her beauty satisfied [his] artistic eye, her peculiarities piqued his curiosity, her vivacity lightened his ennui, and her character interested him by the unconscious hints it gave of power, pride and passion. So entirely natural and unconventional was she that he soon found himself on a familiar footing, asking all manner of unusual questions, and receiving rather piquant replies.

No woman should give her happiness into the keeping of a man without fixed principles.

I like adventures, and I’m going to find some.

A quick temper, sharp tongue, and restless spirit were always getting her into scrapes, and her life was a series of ups and downs, which were both comic and pathetic.

Self-pity in its early stages is as snug as a feather mattress. Only when it hardens does it become uncomfortable.