…misfortune was much more interesting to her than good luck.
I can get on with wild beasts first-rate; but men rile me awfully.
A child her wayward pencil drew On margins of her book; Garlands of flower, dancing elves, Bud, butterfly, and brook, Lessons undone, and plum forgot, Seeking with hand and heart The teacher whom she learned to love Before she knew t'was Art.
Some stories are so familiar its like going home.
Do the things you know, and you shall learn the truth you need to know.
You have a good many little gifts and virtues, but there is no need of parading them, for conceit spoils the finest genius. There is not much danger that real talent or goodness will be overlooked long, and the great charm of all power is modesty.