Conceit spoils the finest genius.

Is it not meningitis?

He was poor, yet always appeared to be giving something away; a stranger, yet everyone was his friend; no longer young, but as happy-hearted as a boy; plain and peculiar, yet his face looked beautiful to many.

Now and then, in this workaday world, things do happen in the delightful storybook fashion, and what a comfort that is.

…to the inspiration of necessity, we owe half the wise, beautiful, and useful blessings of the world.

Don't cry so bitterly, but remember this day, and resolve with all your soul that you will never know another like it.

My book came out; and people began to think that topsy-turvy Louisa would amount to something after all.