[On Elizabeth Barrett Browning:] ... for finish, and melody of versification, there is nothing approaching to Miss Barrett in this day, or in any other - also for diction. Her words paint.

She was the prettiest, silliest, most affected, husband-hunting butterfly ever.

Friendship is the bread of the heart.

Autumn glows upon us like a splendid evening; it is the very sunset of the year.

I prepare myself for all disappointments by expecting nothing.

To think of playing cricket for hard cash! Money and gentility would ruin any pastime under the sun.

... they know little of the passions who seek to argue with that most intractable of them all, the fear that is born of love.